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Price 65 Cents. 




THE 



Village Color-Bearer. 




BY 



RICHARD H. RYDER. 





CAFT.* RICHARD* H.*EYDEE. 



The Village Color- Bearer. 



together with 



A STOR^ 



U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 



BY 



CAPT. RICHARD H. RYDER 



ILLTJSTR 




BROOKLYN, N. Y.: 

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY GEORGE S. PA'l 
86 Fulton Street. 
1891. 









Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1890, by 
RICHARD H. RYDER, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



DEDICATED 

TO 

THE MEMORY 

OF 

THE BRAVE AND NOBLE SOLDIERS 

ok 1861-65* 

OF MY NATIVE VILLAGE, CANARSIE, 

And my Brave, 

ASSOCIATES OF THE LIFE-SAVING SERVICE. 

January, 1890. RICHARD H. RYDER. 



PREFACE. 



I have headed my first little story "The Village 
Color-Bearer," as in the capacity of Color-Bearer my 
young heart bounded with patriotism to such an extent 
that it is with pride I look back upon those dark days 
('61-'05). My second story I have dedicated to the 
memory of my brave associates, as I cherish a fond 
remembrance of their brave deeds still; and in pre- 
senting these two little stories to my beloved family, 
it is for the purpose that they may know the truth, 
and not be burdened with exaggerations concerning 
myself. 

RICHARD H. RYDER. 

N. B. — The mention made of others in these two 
little stories, as well as those of myself, have been care- 
fully considered and viewed; and it is with a firm 
belief that I have truthfully stated all mention herein 
made, and opinions rendered are from conviction, not 
biased. 



IKE YILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 



Oh! war, where is thy glory 
Outside of thy story? 



< AXARSIE HEROISM. 



r. Mothers kissed their brave, noble sons, 
Sisters their true-loved sires, 
As they, with a patriot's heart, 
Left to quench rebellion's fires. 

2. With pride he looked upon his kin, 

The soldier dressed in blue ; 
With pride the kin looked upon him 
Wearing that emblem so true. 

3. But, oh! how little thought they then 

Of the trials there were in store, 
And that some, while upon this earth, 
Were parting for evermore. 

4. How hearts have ached for loving ones, 

And how clouded yet each day, 
Of those who shared that hearfelt loss 
Caused by battling 'gainst the gray!* 

5. Yet how brightly shines the brave deeds 

Of those from our village fair! 
Their heroism is yet untold, 
And true manly deeds so rare! 

6. To our brave fallen heroes all, 

For you I have often prayed 
Loving angels to waft you home, 
Where'er upon earth you're laid! 

*The Confederate army wore a gray uniform. 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

WAR FOR THE UNION— 1861-1805. 



Years before the outbreak of the rebellion, time had 
fully established the fact, how difficult it/was to form 
a government here satisfactory to its people, notwith- 
standing the solidity of its people for a government of 
their own, and the patriotism and heroism of these 
same people in gaining their independence (1783); for 
we see, from the very first, where the very best of 
talent and arguments were used, pro and con., in estab- 
lishment of our Constitution, and yet how far that in- 
strument was from accomplishing all that was desired; 
still, as time passed on, it is surprising how rapidly 
our country gained in strength and wealth. Although 
meeting with many obstacles, there was a steady 
growth of prosperity; but as the sunshine of our coun- 
try developed in beauty, so did the clouds darken in 
blackness, and finally threatened the destruction of 
our grand Union, that had been heroically established 
and handed down to our keeping. But after that dark- 
ness had passed away, it was seen that our coiintry, as 
glorious as it had seemed, had only been as the unre- 
fined; its true beauty was only established with the 
clearing away of that diversity between the two great 
sections, North and South. Years and years might 
profitably be given in the writing of our glorious 
country and its noble and heroic people, but in my 
humble way I only write in the interest of my dear 
family and those whom it may please outside. 

I was born at Rockaway, Long Island, N. Y., May 29, 
1843; therefore, at the outbreak of the rebellion I was 
not yet 18 years of age. But what signified a few days, 
or even months? for the art (if such it was) was soon 
learned by him that had made up his mind to go; there- 
fore, when I enlisted in Co. "E," 13, State Militia (of 



THB VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. U 

Brooklyn, N. Y.,) on the 23rd day of April, 1861, I was 
1 9 years of ag'e (so I told the recruiting officer, who 
proved to be my Captain, David B. Jones). Just pre- 
vious to the outbreak of the rebellion, and at the time 
of the outbreak, I was living with my dear mother and 
stepfather at Canarsie, a small village in the Town of 
Flatlands, and, as I might say, in the suburbs of the 
City (Brooklyn). My stepfather keeping a grocery and 
liquor store placed me in possession of all general 
news, as either is headquarters for news in a country 
village (no discredit, however); therefore, I was well 
posted, so far as newspapers and country comment 
went, and with others was fully aroused on getting the 
news of Fort Sumter being fired upon, April 12, '01, 
and evacuated April 14, '61. The liquor business hav- 
ing no charms for me -which, by the way, seldom 
benefits the young (or even the old) -I was ready, upon 
the first occasion, to carry into execution my act of 
April 23rd. This was brought about by a few of us ; 
young men, meeting just before going to church, Sim- 
day evening, April 22, '61. The result of this meeting 
was the pledging of the following to go together the 
next day and enlist, viz.: Thomas O'Neill, William 
Biggs, Philip Lumberyea, and your humble servant. 
After church services there was another outdoor meet- 
ing, but I hardly know the decision of the girls; still I 
know the next day we went (beg pardon) "all the 
same." But here comes a solemn thought: the scenes 
at my home and the homes of my associates, and the 
prayers of our mothers! But as only a portion of our 
regiment left for the seat of war the day after our en- 
listment, and we not going with them, gave us a few 
days at home, which had a tendency to somewhat allay 
the fears of our parents; still, who can imagine the 
anguish of parting under such circumstances? let me 
say none but those who have undergone the sad ordeal. 



10 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

Finally, the day came for our departure, which we took 
as nobly as the noblest, amid cheerings, blessings and 
weeping's — for our hearts were young, and in jesting 
words we tried to soothe the fears of our loving parents. 
The day being warm, we found ourselves somewhat 
fatigued after getting on board our transport, through 
marching and other duties pertaining to our embarka- 
tion; but as the afternoon was yet early, we had the 
pleasure of going out of New York Bay b) T daylight, 
and were even outside Sandy Hook lightship when 
dusk set in. The evening being pleasant, we remained 
on deck till a late hour before seeking our sleeping 
apartments — which, by the way, were of no great in- 
ducement to a man, unless he was "pretty sleepy," as 
my "mate" said; as for bedding, I hardly know what 
it did consist of, but the bare boards would have been 
highly appreciated "many a time" afterwards by many 
others as well as myself. Our second day out was a 
lovely day, and I was out on deck and saw about the 
beginning of it. The weither continuing good, we 
had a quick and pleasant passage to Annapolis, Md., 
which place is on the Severn River. Here we landed, 
and joined the portion of our regiment that had pre- 
ceded us. Now our camp and other duties commenced, 
which, however, were mostly of a pleasant character. 
This, in a measure, was quite a solace to us, as the 
giving up of our previous associations and pretty girls 
(of which Canarsie could usually boast) was no light 
task — "especially the latter," as some of our boys said. 
But our minds soon became too much occupied to dwell 
long upon home and its inducements. Still, even though 
a soldier's duty is arduous at times, there are always 
thoughts and sights of inspiration coming to his mind. 
This I found to be the case all through my army life. 
After being landed at the Naval Academy, Annapolis, 
Md., our pride for the Massachusetts troops was greatly 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 11 

increased (this was after the heroic action of the fjth 
Massachusetts, while passing through Baltimore, Md., 
April 19, '61); for here we learned of their further 
noble services. The sth Massachusetts being a part of 
the brigade of which the 6th belonged to, was sent to 
Washington, D. C, via Annapolis, and was accompanied 
by its General, Benjamin F. Butler. On arriving at 
Annapolis, where they remained a few days, it was 
learned that there were many in the near neighbor- 
hood of Confederate faith, and that they were plotting 
to seize the noble and historic old frigate Constitution 
(the Constitution was at the Academy as a school-ship) ; 
but Gen. Butler ("the right man in the right place," as 
he often was afterwards), could not allow the pride of 
the sons of his little State (Massachusetts) to be thus 
degraded; he therefore ordered the Sth to be formed 
in line. After they were formed in line, he asked them 
whether there were any of them that could sail a ship, 
and if so, for them to step forward. Equal to the 
emergency, about forty men stepped out, signifying 
their marine qualifications, and it was said that among 
them was a son of the Constitution's builder. This was 
a glorious and inspiring sight, and the old ship was 
soon manned and sent to New York, where she arrived 
safe. While we were at Annapolis, our time was not 
wholly given to camp duty, for some of our regiment 
were constantly making raids in the surrounding coun- 
try. The first expedition that I was with went to Bal- 
timore, Md., by a small steamer. This was a pleasant 
trip for us, but was not attended with much excite- 
ment. My second voyage with an expedition, was up a 
small river some distance, where we were landed. As 
this was a hostile neighborhood, every precaution was 
taken against our two companies being surprised and 
overpowered. As we wished to go to a village (Cen- 
treville, Md.,) about five miles, distant, an advance 



12 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

guard was sent forward, and we followed. The day 
being" very warm, to some the march was somewhat 
fatiguing, but to me there was a fascination about our 
journey that carried me lightly and joyously over the 
dusty roadways. Constantly we were meeting sights 
new to our vision; there were the slaves and overseers 
at work on the plantation, in their most rustic state, 
and many other sights new to us but familiar to the 
Southerner. We finally reached the village, which, 
like all other Southern habitations, was, what there 
was of it all together, or, as I might say, the small be- 
ginning of a city, or again, it showed that the first in- 
habitants had been imbued by our National motto, 
"United, we stand; divided, we fall." But let all this 
be as it might, the village was a pleasant little place, 
and showed every sign of thrift. We were marched 
and halted in a neatly-kept plot of ground, in the centre 
of which was a stately church. On this occasion we 
were not overrun by curiosity, such as was usually the 
case ; therefore our minds were somewhat from our 
real object (as the Rev. Pastor said it would) towards 
a more holy purpose. But while our surroundings 
gave every appearance of holiness, could it be sup- 
posed that it was detrimental to our duty? for was it 
not our duty, a duty of righteousness? Happy am I to 
say, that while we were in the refreshing shadow of 
that emblem of Deity, not an act of ours cast a reflec- 
tion of unmanliness upon us. After being refreshed, 
about half of our number was divided in small squads 
and sent in different directions through the village in 
search of fire-arms or other government property. 
The squad (a small detachment of men) that I was as- 
signed to was commanded by one of our Lieutenants 
(Nicholas Schenck]. Our search being fruitless for 
some time, we were about to give up in despair. Prob- 
ably to meditate over his unsuccess, the Lieutenant 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 13 

halted us by the shady side of a high board fence. 
This fence enclosed a corner lot of ground, on the front 
part of which was a two-story building. Not content, 
I, with two or three others, managed to get on top of 
this fence, from which place we could see the contents 
of the yard — or a part of its contents — which was neat 
and clean, and the greater part was planted with peas, 
and their vines were large and bushy, and they had 
been lately hoed up (the dirt hoed up to them); but in 
the most distant corner stood a wood house or work- 
shop. This attracted my attention, and as I was about 
to descend on the inside, I was hailed from one of the 
second-story windows thus: " I say dar, chile, whar am 
you gowing?" This checked my movements for a mo- 
ment, and I answered: "Only to look in the wood 
house, aunty." Lieutenant Schenck then said to me 
that it was not worth while going over the fence, as he 
did not wish to search property that did not show signs 
of containing hidden treasure. It being evident that 
aunty, as she was termed, still remained at the window, 
one of my comrades (on the fence) called out, saying: 
"Aunty, have you got any of Uncle Sam's cannons in 
the house?" About this time, I, while standing on a 
narrow strip of board nailed to the inside of the fence, 
slipped, and went down. This mishap of mine likely 
hurried an answer to my comrade's jesting question, 
for aunty answered: "Lore bress you, chile, dare am 
no cannon here, and massa done gone and hoed dem 
peas, and you kill dem shu." Lieutenant Schenck now 
called for me to come back; but as I was over the 
fence, and out of his sight, the temptation was too 
great; so I started to get a peep in that wood house, 
but in my haste, my feet — which, by the way, were not 
larger than the ordinary size — caught in the vines of 
the flourishing peas, and down I went. This brought 
a hearty laugh from my comrades, and very likely 



14 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

indignation to aunty, and certainly humiliation to my- 
self; but, in extricating my feet, Lo! and behold! what 
did I see? — a musket in all its beauty (to me), but in 
all its ugliness, probably, to aunty and her misses. In 
drawing this one from the earth another was revealed, 
and so on, till, with the aid of my comrades, I had un- 
earthed sixty good muskets and demolished that pea 
patch. Whatever aunty or her misses might have 
thought I cannot say, but I know they very wisely of- 
fered no further remonstrances. In good time we took 
our prize to headquarters, and the sight of our muskets 
greatly elated our Captain, as well as all concerned. 
Other details had also been very successful, which made 
the day's work a profitable one to our uncle (U.S.) The 
day now getting well advanced, no time was lost in 
getting a horse and cart, by which our treasure was 
transported to the landing. While going to or while 
being in the village, we had seen nothing of a hostile 
nature outside of the muskets that we had captured; 
but while leaving, and about one mile outside of the 
village, we saw that we were pursued by something in 
the shape of a man, who came staggering after us and 
giving vent to language that would have been the de- 
struction of the whole army, could it have been exe- 
cuted; but this much credit is due him — his knowledge 
of safety was perfect. On arriving at the landing, we 
found the captain of the steamer anxiously awaiting 
our return. 

Although no enemy had openly showed himself as 
yet, still it was feared they would, as it had been re- 
ported that a company or more of home guards were in 
the neighborhood. For some reason unknown to me, 
after getting our treasure on board the steamer we did 
not go down out of the river, but remained where we v 
were, and put pickets out on both sides of the river. 
Soon a dense fog settled over all, giving the young 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 15 

saplings along the river the appearance of huge trees. 
This only added to our discomfort, for we did not ap- 
preciate our surroundings. el What could we do if an 
attack was made upon us?" was the question asked by 
all, and " How foolish our officers are for keeping us 
here," was said by more than one; "where is there a 
safe retreat for us?" Our situation appeared deplora- 
ble enough to us all; and, if attacked, we could see, in 
bold letters, the result : Two whole companies sacrificed in 
defence of their country .' This was the most inspiring 
thought that came to us, and of which we were only 
relieved by a few hours' quietness; but this did not last 
through all of the night, for at about midnight we were 
again brought to a full realization of our position, 
when bang — bang — bang went the rifles of our out- 
post! I was with a small detachment that was acting 
as a reserve to the pickets on the opposite side of the 
river from our steamer, and upon hearing the firing 
we all sprang for our rifles, which were stacked. 
Usually we were all very particular in getting our own 
guns, but, upon this occasion, such a trifling thing was 
overlooked; suffice to say, each got a gun, and then 
our officer got us in some kind of a line by the time our 
outpickets got to us— some of which were gunless, 
others hatless, and all almost breathless! Just as we 
had expected — detained there to be massacred! Hardly know- 
ing what to do, we bravely stood our ground; but as we 
could not see or hear anything further of a warlike 
nature, our officers ordered an advance, which we made 
with the greatest of watchfulness. The mystery was 
soon solved, and behold what was discovered! — a poor 
cow, mortally wounded! But none were ever prouder 
of a great victory achieved than we were when steam- 
ing, by the light of a beautiful morning, out of that 
one long night's dismal river. But our hardships and 
victories for our country were not yet ended, for instead 



16 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER.' 

of us going" back to Annapolis, we were taken to an- 
other village, 

QUEENSTOWN, Ml). 

Upon disembarking at this place, we immediately 
met with opposition. But what was opposition now to 
us? for had we not been marched through an enemy's 
country, and done picket duty in its most treacherous 
region? Our opposition here was in the person of one 
big Mike, as he was called, and, judging from his di- 
mensions, &c, if he had been loaded from that village 
alone, that village would be a temperance place until 
it received a new supply. Our advance continued 
steady — so did Mike's retreat — till we got in the village. 
Here Mike made a bold stand in defiance of us bold 
heroes; but our officers were not to be defeated with- 
out a harder struggle; so a charging party was selected, 
and while the rest of us acted as a reserve, a charge 
was made, and the chargers— all honor to them! — 
fearlessly made their way through a host of minors, 
and, irrespective of color, swept them aside till they 
reached their enemy, whom they seized and nobly con- 
veyed to a lock-up; after which all was quiet. Being 
unable to find such property as we were in search of in 
this village, we soon took our departure, taking big 
Mike with us to the landing, where, upon many humble 
promises on his part, he was permitted to return to the 
village, much soberer and wiser, with the color and 
colorless young escort that had accompanied us. It 
was with light hearts that we. once more boarded our 
little transport, and made lighter by the knowledge 
that we were now to return direct to Annapolis. 

On returning, we received a hearty welcome, and 
were greatly applauded for what we had accomplished. 
But we soon learned that we were not to have the 
much-needed night's rest in our comfortable quarters — 
or even out of them — that we had expected, for our 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. \'t 

Colonel, Abel Smith, had already received orders for 
our regiment to be taken to Baltimore. Early in the 
afternoon we boarded a train, and were soon being- 
carried swiftly on our journey, meeting with but little 
delay. Just before sunset we reached the end of our 
destination, and took up our position near the city. 
The calling of our regiment to Baltimore was through - " 
the fear of a riot. After lying on our arms all night, 
and finding all remained peaceful through the next 
day, towards evening we returned to Annapolis. Al- 
though my exploits had been pleasing to me, I soon 
learned their result upon me, for, the next day after 
returning from Baltimore, I was ordered in the hospi- 
tal ; typhoid fever had taken hold of me. I remained 
in the hospital nine days, and should have remained 
longer, but my regiment had left Annapolis and was 
then encamped on Federal Hill, just outside the City 
of Baltimore. Wishing to be with my regiment, and 
feeling able to walk around, I begged permission to 
leave and join my regiment. On joining, I did not 
wish to be carried on the sick roll, so I reported for 
duty, and tried to make myself as well as others be- 
lieve that I was able to endure all fatigue that was to 
fall upon me; but soon I was again obliged to succumb 
to that dreaded and destructive malady. It was im- 
mediately after guard-mount and the reliefs being 
counted off, that the officers of the guard noticed my 
appearance, and I was, without hardly being consulted, 
marched off to the hospital. This time my sickness 
was much greater than it had been upon the first 
attack. I had been in the hospital but a few days when 
I overheard a conversation between my Captain and 
the hospital surgeon, the sum and substance of which 
was, that the surgeon did not think that I could live 
twelve hours longer. I was hardly able to speak, but, 
what is not usually the case with one suffering from 



18 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

typhoid fever, my thinking faculties appeared to be 
all right. Happily, the discouraging news of my sur- 
geon did not cause me any great uneasiness, and, thanks 
to Him who governs all, that night my fever abated, 
and I soon showed signs of recovery. Gen. Dix hav- 
ing requested my regiment to remain nine or ten days 
over their time, which they did, gave me time to so far 
recover my health as to be able to march home with 
my regiment. 

It was thought by many who started out to serve 
only three months, that they were only going on a 
pleasure trip, and it is yet probably thought by many 
who did not participate in that service that such was 
the case; but let me say that such was not the case. 
My company, and the other companies belonging to 
my regiment, lost, I believe, five or six men each, 
mostly through typhoid fever; and these men were 
not, as they were termed, of the paper-collar frater- 
nity — if there ever was such a fraternity; they were 
mostly young men that had been employed at good 
healthy outdoor work, and, after they had been accli- 
mated, were the bod)* of our grand old army after- 
wards. We lost also a few men by accidental shooting, 
and a beloved and promising young drummer, Mc- 
Kenzie. After the 13th returned home and were 
mustered out (August, '01), our Colonel (Abel Smith) 
immediately began the recruiting of a three years' 
regiment; but just before its completion, through a 
railroad accident, he was killed; thus our country lost 
agood soldier, and we a good commander. Our Lieut. - 
Colonel (Dodge) then took command of our regiment 
(87). After I had got home from the three months' 
service, I soon gained perfect health, and on the 5th 
day of December, '61, I was as happy as the happiest 
marching down Broadway en route to the seat of war. 
Here let me interpose, 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 19 

I CAN SEE THEM STILL, 

1. While nobly marching down Broadway, 
Their faces tinged with hope's bright ray, 
Proudly bearing their trust so grand — 
Emblem of our heroic land! 

2. Again, at Williamsburg, I spy 
Their faces — but another eye, 
The token of a fearless heart, 
From honor never to depart. 

2. At Fair Oaks' crimsoned battle-field, 
With great loss they were forc'd to yield; 
No dishonor, I'm proud to say, , 

To them; they fought bravely on that day! 

4. At Robinson's Field, they can boast 
Of running their brave rebel host. 

I can plainly see each one now 
As he compels his foe to bow! 

5. All through the battle — seven days — 
Their manly deeds deserve great praise. 
Although they numbered but a few, 
They to their honored trust were true — 

6. Bravely fighting against their foe, 
To hold the stations of Bristow 
And Manassas, and Catlett too; 
But, ah! the end few ever knew! 

7. While in the ranks of the Mozart, 

With their tattered flag they had to part; 
'Twas borne away by a loyal hand,* 
Decked with heroic garlands grand. 

8. The number on that flag so great 
Was " 87," New York State. 

I prize it still, although quite old, 
As of yore, while beneath its fold. 

* George Hudson, a Lieutenant of my Company (" I)"), having an 
order from the War Department for the purpose, took our flag, while we 
were encamped near White's Ford, Md., from us, and had it placed iu 
the State Capitol, at Albany, N. Y. 



20 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

After I had enlisted in the 87th. N. Y. Volunteers, I 
found that I had the following from my village with 
me, viz.: Thomas O'Neill, James W. Nolan, Thomas 
Dougherty, Lawrence Abrams, Hezekiah M. Storer, 
and John H. Van Houten. Others had enlisted in 
different regiments; so our little village was doing well. 
From New York we were taken direct to Washington, 
D. C, by rail, and encamped on Meridian Hill, just out 
of the city. While here, we had plenty of guard duty 
and drilling, but our Captain (Mclntyre) being inca- 
pacitated, by his portly dimensions, from indulging in 
one of our principal pastime duties, or that of the other 
companies, "double quick," we were somewhat fortu- 
nate. About the first part of March, '62, we struck 
tents and waded through mud to Arlington Heights, Va. 
Here our drilling was renewed, but the weight of our 
duty did not weigh heavily upon us, for it was greats- 
relieved by home (camp) amusements. But our duties 
and amusements here were not to last long, for in the 
latter part of March, '02, we, with that historic old 
army, the Army of the Potomac, took our departure; 
and what a sight! such as will never be forgotten by 
those who witnessed it — 

A mighty host, with bay 'nets bright, 
Reaching as far as did the sight, 
Filling the air with gleeful song, 
As they towards " Dixey" marched along. 

The heart of each, as he viewed that great army of 
which he was a part, was rilled apparently to its utter- 
most with pride. 

How infusing the sight! 

Their bay'nets glittering in the sun; 

Their clear voices like music rung; 

Their grand flags they bore through the breeze 

With dignity and the greatest ease. 

After embarking at Alexandria, Va., in transports, 
we were taken to Fortress Monroe, Va. While passing 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. %\ 

down the Potomac River, it was no usual scene to see 
the transports conveying' our army; and much amuse- 
ment was derived from their apparent racing. Our 
voyage was wholly attended with pleasure and inspir- 
ing scenes. After arriving at Fortress Monroe, we 
were marched out near Hampton — (this was about 
April 1, ISfil) — where we encamped. But who will, of 
those who were there, ever forget our first night at 
Fortress Monroe? Such a night! and if "curfew" was 
not heeded by us, were we much at fault? for, as a 
German said, " Sergeant, vot for you call me mock out 
der light, ven I would die mit dis cold rain?" And it 
was a cold rain, as the German said, and a heavy one 
too, drenching our clothing and completely covering 
the ground. Where was there a place for us to lie 
down, unless we laid in the water? There was none, 
and, to add to the discomfort, we had no rations. Ah! 
how welcome would have been our coffee then! but 
many a time after did we suffer for the want of that 
army luxury, which was life itself to a soldier. Ra- 
tions finally came, and so did the sun, and I assure you 
that both were -welcomed by us, and ere the setting of 
the sun we had forgiven all, if not quite forgotten ,and 
were as joyous as ever. Our Captain — all honor to his 
name — not being gifted with great foresightedness, 
nobly led us till his sensibilities were awakened by un- 
foreseen hardships; then he sensibly resigned his com- 
mission and departed for a more genial land. Lieut. 
Wm. H. Leaycraft was now commissioned Captain, and 
placed in command of our (" D") company. Happily 
for Capt. Leaycraft, his averdupois was not then as 
great as now. Our officers had not forgotten that 
drilling was customary, if not essential, and that every 
post should be guarded. 

On the morning of April .">, '62, the sun rose beauti- 
fully, and greatly eased my duty, that of marching up 



£2 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

and down on guard at brigade headquarters. The 
morning being calm, the air was rent by the music of 
the bugle, drum and fife; and while I listened to the 
melody of the sick-call, I wondered who could be sick 
on such a morning! but, ah! even though there were 
not many sick that morning, there were plenty ere the 
final close of the day; for no sooner had I been relieved 
that morning from guard, than I saw the whole army 
on the march, and I, with my regiment, was soon with 
them. If my store of wisdom was scanty in many re- 
spects, it was not in this: of "trusting in Providence" 
for what I needed when night came; therefore I always 
began a march "in light marching order." Even 
though the morning was a beautiful one, early in the 
afternoon the sky became clouded, and just before we 
reached Yorktown a light rain began to fall upon us. 
It being a long march from Hampton to Yorktown, 
the "boys," when we reached our destination, were 
greatly fatigued — even though they had disposed of 
the greater part of the contents of their knapsacks — 
as we received the command to halt where we were to 
encamp (or the greater part of our regiment) for the 
night. How welcome was the order ! but almost im- 
mediately another order came, which was not so wel- 
come, for it was for a detail of men for picket duty; 
and as the names were called there were many excuses 
offered, but the only excuse accepted was the doctor's, 
and a few who found the doctor a safe refuge that 
night, clung to him till they found a safer one — their 
discharge. When the roll was being called for picket 
duty, I was standing by the side of James W. Nolan, 
whose name was soon called, but, like the noble boy 
that he always was, he offered no objections. Seeing 
how difficult it was to get the required number, I of- 
fered to go in some one's place; but my First Sergeant, 
Thomas O'Neill, said, as it was not my turn, I could 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 23 

not go (I had been on guard the night before). After 
the detail had been made up, there was one among 
them that I knew was hardly able to do the duty, hav- 
ing been weakened down by late sickness; I therefore 
offered to take his place; my offer was accepted, and it 
was but a short time before I found myself in company 
with friend Nolan, standing behind a large tree, doing 
picket duty in a thick woods, on a dark, stormy and 
dismal night, and with the "Johnnies" but a short dis- 
tance from me. This was somewhat trying, but our 
minds were greatly relieved by the (if not of the best 
character) freely expressed opinions of our not over and 
above desired near neighbors — the enemy — who freely 
gave vent to their feelings in regard to our trespassing 
upon their immediate vicinity. This conversation they 
kept up about all night, and it was quite interesting 
to us — in the absence of anything better — and greatly 
helped to pass the night away. But when we were re- 
lieved the next morning, it was a relief indeed, and we 
soon sought our camp, and, happily for us, soon be- 
came unconscious of the pangs of hunger, through 
sleep. Again no rations. Through the day some of 
our regiment found and confiscated a quantity of corn 
and rye, in the hull. This was divided among us, giv- 
ing each probably about a pint, corn and rye together; 
this our good doctor gave us a recipe for its cooking. 
Those of us who had been on picket passed the greater 
part of the day in sleep, but near night, when our 
rations came, had our coffee and "hard tack" (army 
crackers), which made us feel much more comfortable, 
so with darkness, which soon set in, we again laid 
down upon a soldier's bed — the ground — rolled our- 
selves in our blankets, placed our cartridge-boxes, &c, 
under our heads, and sought and soon found sweet re- 
pose. Our rations, after this, came regularly; so did 
our guard and picket duty, also our labor with the pick 



^4 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

and shovel, which implements we used mostly nights, 
as the enemy could not then see to shell us, as they 
could during' the daytime. By magic, apparently, each 
morning revealed new redoubts, &c, to such an extent 
that it transformed our surrounding almost unrecog- 
nizable. The enemy, seeing our progress, knew that 
they could not stand its mighty power; so not waiting 
further results, took up their retreat. I was on reserve 
picket duty with my regiment the night they evacu- 
ated, May 3, '02, and what a serenading they gave us! 

They lit the sky with fuse and shell, 
And filled the air with shrapnell, 
And even more than this — for fun, 
From our works they made us run. 

The next day (May 4, '62), after going back to our 
camp, we were soon in line and marching "on to Rich- 
mond." While marching out towards the enemy's 
main fort (Magruder), which was on the York River, 
we passed by the little enclosure where Lord Cornwal- 
lis, on the 19th day of October, 1781, surrendered his 
sword to Gen. Lincoln, who had been designated by 
Gen. Washington to receive it. The sight of this little 
enclosure to us 

Was an emblem bright, grand and clear, 
Of all our hearts held proud and dear, 
And added to our will for right 
As we were marching on to fight. 

On reaching the enemy's old fortifications, we learned 
that torpedoes had been planted in all the main road- 
ways — we learned, I say; yes, but not until a number 
of our men had been killed by them, the 40th N. Y. 
Volunteers having three or four of their brave men 
blown to atoms. Our engineers then began the work 
of discovery; and as the torpedoes were found, the 
rebel prisoners — so I was informed — were compelled 
to remove them; after which we again took up our line 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 25 

of march. We did not go far, however, before night 
set in. We now halted for the night, but the rest 
which we sought, and much needed, we did not get, for 
a cold rain soon began to fall, which caused us to stand 
or run around most of the night. When morning came 
(May 5, '62), we fell in line, and through a deep mud 
made our way towards Williamsburg, Va. The rain 
continuing, although not at all times heavy, kept our 
clothing wet through, which, upon any little resting 
spell, chilled us through. Fortunately, or unfortu- 
nately, we had but a few of these restings. When 
within about one mile of the fortifications near Wil- 
liamsburg,' we were ordered to halt, and unslung knap- 
sacks, &c, retaining nothing but our cartridge-boxes — 
which were filled with ammunition — and our rifles. 
With my canteen and knapsack I dreaded to part — 
more especially their contents — but I did. In my 
knapsack were a piece of tobacco and a daguerreotype 
(which were almost the contents of my knapsack); 
these I transferred to my pockets, and although I 
afterwards lost the daguerreotype, I did not its original, 
which I still retain, and not, like the substitute, I hope, 
destined to fall in the hand of an enemy. After being 
divested of all superfluities, we were ordered on the 
"double quick;" but it was not at all times that we 
could obey the order, still we did the best we could, 
which was creditable under the circumstances. 

Just before reaching the field of battle, we came 
upon a band of musicians, who tried to cheer our 
weary hearts and give elasticity to our almost worn- 
out legs. By the way, these musicians had great re- 
spect for their instruments — (no discredit, however)— 
that is, judging from their act of getting behind large 
trees with them! Just before dusk, we reached the 
scene of action, and as we entered the edge of the open 
field on the main road out to Fort Magruder, we came 



20 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

in contact with a shower of the " rebs' " leaden missiles, 
Fortunately, we were filed in the edge of a woods, 
where each sought protection behind trees. The enemy, 
having been pretty well defeated during the day, con- 
tented themselves by keeping up a pretty steady fire 
from their cannons; and, as they did not advance, we 
simply laid in the woods, and held our position. There 
had been hard fighting here in the afternoon, and the 
ground was well covered with dead and dying. As 
the weather kept stormy, and we were obliged to lie 
on the wet and cold ground, with the dying, moaning 
and pleading all around, it was to us, as well as to many 
others, a trying night, and not many of the wounded 
survived it. 

As daylight made its appearance, it was discovered 
that the enemy had fallen back, for which we were 
thankful. We were now taken back a short distance, 
and halted. The sun now made its appearance, and 
with it came a pleasant warmth. This soon created 
quite a reaction ; a drowsiness now took possession of 
us, and our shiverings wholly relaxed their sway. 
Again if we had our coffee ! but we got it not, neither 
did we have anything to eat; both, as it will be remem- 
bered, were left about one mile to the rear the day 
before. But this was not considered reason enough 
for us not to continue our duty; so we were ordered to 
"fall in," after which we were marched to the open 
field, which brought us within less than a mile, and in 
full view, of Williamsburg. Here we were deployed 
as skirmishers, or all of our regiment, with the excep- 
tion of one company, which acted as a reserve. A bat- 
tery of light artillery was also deployed — they in the 
rear of our skirmishes, and on a line with our reserve 
company, and in the rear of all was, I believe, the re- 
mainder of our division. Thus we advanced across 
the open field, through the city, and about one mile 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. SJJ 

beyond it, where we halted. The scene of our advance 
was grand — even though it was not that of a large 
army; but the scenes that we witnessed while making 
that advance 

Were most heartrending to behold! 
For there had fought those soldiers bold 
Who now lay dead upon the field, 
Which was their choice rather than yield! 

After being halted outside of Williamsburg, a detail 
was called and sent back to bury the dead. Fortunately 
our regiment had not lost many. Burying of the dead 
is a hard duty to perform, especially if they have been 
lying on the field long; but it is a duty not only of 
Christianity, but of necessity After performing this 
duty, and it being near sunset, we returned to our 
camp, if such it could be called, and closed our eyes to 
all worldly scenes, and were soon beyond its cares. At 
the rising of the next morning's sun we awoke, and 
with what relish did we partake of our coffee and 
"hard tack," for we had not eaten anything but two 
or three crackers, and these we received from haver- 
sacks on the field, and had drank no coffee since we 
left our haversacks outside of Williamsburg. What 
would not have been palatable to us then! But in a 
few days the past was almost forgotten, and I might 
say the future hardly thought of. Having our rations, 
and the weather being good, our camp again assumed 
its old-time cheerfulness; and to add to our comforts, 
during our little stay here, near our camp was, 

* Down deep in a shaded ravine, 
All clothed in foliage ever green, 
Bright cool water, of silv'ry ray, 
That sparkled on its downward way. 

Good drinking water we always relished, and held in 
high estimation, for it was quite a treac to us, as the 
most of our drinking-water was very poor, often from 



28 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

stagnant ponds. After a few days' encampment out- 
side of Williamsburg, we again took up our line of 
march towards Richmond. Our roads now were con- 
tinually either very muddy or dusty, which made our 
progress slow, disagreeable and laborious, still cheer- 
fulness appeared to keep possession of us, and the 
greater our hardships the more material there was for 
jesting thoughts. During the first part of the after- 
noon of May 31, '62, I was with a fatigue party a 
short distance from my camp when an order came to 
my regiment for our Colonel to get us in line and be 
ready to march at a moment's notice. Those of us 
that were on fatigue duty were sent for, and we were 
soon in the ranks of our companies, and had but a 
little while to wait for fiirther orders; and when we 
received them, we were ordered, from the start, on the 
"double quick," which we kept up the greater part of 
the distance from our camp to Fair Oaks, a distance of 
about two miles. The day being very warm, and the 
roads dusty, we were nearly choked with dust when we 
reached Fair Oaks, and much exhausted, but there was 
no time to rest. The enemy had routed our troops, 
and their onslaught had not yet been checked. We 
Were on the Williamsburg and Richmond road, and 
where we entered the woods the road took a turn to 
the right. Here we were ordered to unsling canteens, 
haversacks and blankets; our knapsacks, which we left 
before getting to Williamsburg, we never saw after, 
or anything else which we left there; our blankets, 
&c, which we now had, were those which we had 
picked up on the field at Williamsburg. After obey- 
ing the order of unslinging, we were ordered to load 
Oitr rifles. Just in front, and a little to the right of us, 
the battle was furious; but we were marched on the 
road and turned with it to the right. After getting 
around the bend, we came upon the 1st Long Island 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 29 

Regiment — Beecher's Regiment, as it was called — who 
gave us three hearty cheers ; but the echo of those 
cheers had hardly died away when the report of rifles 
took their place, and we were soon in the midst of all 
that the word battle implies — the steady roar of rifles 
and their leaden missiles, the loud words of command, 
the voices in cheer, and the anguish of the wounded 
and dying. The position of the 1st Long Island and 
our regiment was such, that when we were fired upon 
we soon became as one regiment, becoming so inter- 
mixed; still that did not debar any of us from fight- 
ing; but the odds were too much against us, and we 
soon found ourselves slowly falling back. As a last 
resort, Lieut. George Hudson, of my company, stepped 
forward a few steps, and asked who would come and 
stay with him? I, with a few others who were near, 
jumped behind trees by him. The firing now was ter- 
rible, and the enemy not more than fifteen yards from 
us. I hardly noticed what was going on around me, 
but loaded and fired as quickly as possible. I had fired 
but a few shots, however, when one of Company " K," 
of my regiment, said to me — he was just to my right — : 
that we had better get to the rear ; after which he 
made the attempt, but had no sooner got from behind 
his tree than he was shot dead! Another man, I think, 
of the 1st Long Island; stood behind a tree near me, 
but on my left; he now tried to make his escape, but 
met with no better success than did my comrade of 
Company "K." As he fell, I was standing with my 
back against a tree, loading my rifle. I then noticed 
that I was alone, and I had hardly a minute to decide 
my course of action? but in that time I did decide; 
wheeling around, and facing the enemy, I sent the 
contents of my riffe at, if not into, one of them; I then, 
turned, bent low, and in a zigzag way ran for my life 
to the rear, with a steady shower of bullets passing 



30 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

harmlessly by me. With the velocity that I then pos- 
sessed I soon got out of their sight, if not out of the 
reach of their rifles. After going a short distance, I 
came upon four men who were carrying one of their 
wounded (of the 1st L. I.); they asked me to help them, 
which I did, but only for a moment, as two who were 
helping the wounded man off, fell. Seeing the "rebs" 
so close upon us, we left all and tried to save ourselves. 
At the time my regiment was first fired upon, and after 
I had fired my first shot, I found it very inconvenient 
to get my cartridges out of my cartridge-box ; so, 
taking a number of cartridges, I placed them inside of 
my clothing and about my waist, my blouse and shirt 
being open at the bosom, and my clothing tight about 
my waist; using a belt instead of suspenders made the 
inside a very accessible receptacle, and convenient for 
the occasion. As I would take a cartridge from my 
bosom — the powder and ball both being in a piece of 
paper together — I would tear the end off with my 
teeth and empty the powder in my rifle, and then 
squeeze the ball from the remaining paper down upon 
the powder. In tearing the paper from the end of the 
cartridge, there was more or less of the powder con- 
stantly getting into my mouth; so the condition of my 
throat, after I had fallen back a short distance, from 
dust, powder and thirst, can easily be imagined; and 
I, throwing myself upon the ground when I came to a 
small stream of dirty water, and drinking from it, ani- 
mal fashion, is easily accounted for; but how refresh- 
ing was that drink! Soon coming to an open field, 
and the enemy close behind me, I started again on a 
run, not going far, however, before I came to a large 
tent, which was about half-way across the field; here 
I stopped, and sent back two or three shots at the ad- 
vancing "Johnnies;" but I soon learned that my forti- 
fication — the tent — was not bullet-proof, so I very 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 31 

wisely again took Up my retreat— and not by a walk 
either! After crossing the open field, I came to a piece 
of woods of heavy timber; here I saw a few men un- 
known to me standing behind trees, so I stopped and 
took a position behind a large tree myself, and imme- 
diately opened fire upon my advancing foe. I had not 
fired but a few shots, however, from my new position, 
when I heard a voice calling me; looking back, I saw 
that it was Lieut. Hudson. I now left my tree and 
went back to him. There I found also two or three of 
my company. I was told by Lieut. Hudson that I had 
done fighting enough for one day, and that we had 
better all go back to our regiment. I found they were 
stationed at a redoubt. I was certainly greatly fa- 
tigued, but the sight of a good cup of coffee greatly 
relieved that feeling. A companion of mine had been 
fortunate enough to find both coffee and crackers, so 
we relished a good supper before lying down for the 
night. Darkness now extending its protective hand 
over us, we were not slow in taking advantage of it 
and resting peacefully till the rising of the sun the 
next morning, 

When again mad rebellion's roar 
Told how fierce was our civil war, 
And how tinged would our great land be 
By the blood of the noble free! 

The report of musketry soon became one continuous 
roar, and black clouds of smoke rose far above the tall 
tree-tops. To a person who would listen and think 
calmly for a moment, it would not appear possible 
that even one person could escape. Fortunately, the 
enemy was soon routed, the Excelsior Brigade (a Jer- 
sey brigade), making a charge in our immediate front, 
with such a determination, was the first to check 
them, and this led to a general rout ; and soon the 
bright Sabbath Day, that had so early witnessed such 



32 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

anguish and strife, was allowed to pass on without 
further molestation ; and happy were all that such 
was the case, for the greater part of our army had 
been obliged to march hurriedly some distance before 
reaching the battle-ground. My regiment had lost 
nearly one hundred men in killed and wounded. Our 
Colonel was among the wounded, and was taken pri- 
soner. We lost four killed from my company; Alfred 
Gosline. from my village, was among them. Gosline 
did not die on the field, but died, in about a week's 
time, in a hospital, at Portsmouth, Va.; but the three 
Others died on the field. Nicholas S. Ford, from my 
village, was also killed here on the field; he was serv- 
ing in the 1st Long Island. The Color-Corporal of my 
company, Leavy Duval — a brave little fellow — was also 
one of the killed on the field; I am sorry to say that I 
have forgotten the names of the other two. With two 
others, I went, on the second day after the battle, and 
buried the dead of my company. At this battle the 
Est of our mortality is commenced, for 

This, the first of our village life, 
To be given in their great strife 
Of laying low that traitor's hand 
Which had been raised to smite our land. 

The battle being over, my regiment was marched to 
the right of the Richmond and York River Railroad 
(near Savage Station), where we were encamped. While 
here I was appointed Color-Corporal, to fill the vacancy 
caused by the death of Corporal Duval. After remain- 
ing near Savage Station a few days, we were marched 
about one mile to the left, where we encamped. While 
in this camp, my regiment, going on picket duty one 
day, and the colors not taken out with them, the color 
guard remained in camp. But I soon found it too 
monotonous there, so I went in search of my regiment. 
After finding regimental headquarters, I soon learned 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 33 

the whereabouts of my company, whom I joined just 
in time to go, with three others, to establish a new 
outpost. I was informed that many of those who had 
been doing picket duty here, on this line, had been 
surprised and captured. This outpost was to be estab- 
lished to prevent, if possible, any further such freaks 
of the enemy. The new outpost was established in a 
little house out in an open field. There were two or 
three large apple-trees just in front of our little house, 
one of which made a good position for our picket. 
Night was drawing nigh as I went out to take my turn. 
The tree which I was behind was very large at the 
bottom, but branched off at the distance of about four 
feet from the ground, thus making a very good port- 
hole, and from which place I could see well around me 
and not easily be seen. I had not been in this position 
long, however, before I saw one of the enemy's boys 
venturing out of the woods; he looked all around cau- 
tiously, and then started for our little house. I waited 
patiently till he got within about ten yards of me, 
when I ordered him to ground arms and surrender! 
How aback poor "Johnnie" was taken! for even yet he 
did not see me, but he had heard my voice clear 
enough to obey it. After I had given him up to my 
associates, who were much pleased with my good luck, 
he said that he had left his company with the inten- 
tion of deserting; but this we could not credit; he was 
evidently on picket, and through curiosity came over 
to the little house. After we had asked him all sorts 
of questions, we sent him back to company headquar- 
ters, from which place he was disposed of in the 
regular red-tape routine. The night then passed over 
without further incident. 

The Seven Days' Battle was now drawing nigh, but 
of which we were ignorant until the morning of June 
25, '62, when, 



34 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

With a sun so bright and clear, 
And a cool breeze that did us cheer, 
Over the fallen trees we sped 
To a field soon by battle red. 

As we left our camp, we were marched over fallen 
trees to a woods, where we were deployed as skir- 
mishers ; and after advancing a short distance in the 
woods we came upon the enemy, but only a few shots 
were exchanged when they fell back. We were now 
formed in line of battle, and took a position near a 
little peach orchard ; but here we remained only a 
short time when a company of "rebs" came on the 
double-quick to within about fifteen yards of us. They, 
as it was evident, did not know of our whereabouts 
until we fired upon them ; which reception they did 
not appear to appeciate, for they left our presence 
very unceremoniously, but not, however, without firing 
a few shots and wounding a young man who was near 
me. Shortly after this I had a narrow escape. While 
leaning my breast against a rail of the fence that partly 
enclosed the little peach orchard, a bullet struck the 
rail, and should it have had force enough, it would 
have penetrated my heart ; but, thanks to a kind Pro- 
vidence, and the soundness of that rail, it did me no 
harm. Shortly after this, my regiment was marched 
across the peach orchard and placed behind a hedge, 
in front of which was a large open field. But here we 
did not remain long, for a "rebel" battery had an ex- 
cellent range of our position. By stooping low and 
running along the hedge, we soon gained the w.oods, 
where we lay down and watched, with amused interest, 
the demolition of that hedge by that "rebel" battery; 
and I have often thought since whether those artillery- 
men did not think that they had annihilated us. After 
this, all remained quiet for some time, and our cooks — 
all honor to them — came out to us with two camp- 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. O.) 

kettles— one full of coffee, the other bean-soup; but 
ah! there is a mystery that I have never fathomed, 
and that is — who got them! we did not; that is certain, 
although we fought hard, and handsomely whipped a 
regiment that greatly outnumbered ours. This regi- 
ment came marching along the edge of a woods which 
we were in. They were in column, by companies, and 
being in the open field, made a good show. Our 
pickets, who were a short distance in front of us, saw 
them, and reported it to our Colonel (Bachia, who had 
been our Lieut. -Colonel), who immediately placed us 
in position for the attack. I might say here, before 
proceeding further, that, when we left our camp that 
morning, our Color-Sergeant, who had not been well 
for a few days, staid in camp, and one of our color- 
corporals, a brave young man by the name of Wilson, 
carried the colors out of camp; but when we got in the 
field of fallen timber, he said that he would rather 
carry a rifle than the colors, so that if he got in a fight 
he could do something more than look on. At first I 
hesitated to exchange with him, as he wished to do, 
but finally consented, and gave him my rifle and ac- 
coutrements, and I took the colors. I now carried 
them till, just before advancing out to the hedge above- 
mentioned, our Color-Sergeant (Dugan), coming out to 
us, I gave them up to him. After leaving the hedge 
and getting in the woods, one of my officers asked me 
where the colors were. I said that Dugan had them. 
"Why, he went back to camp," answered the officer; 
and there our colors had been left lying in the edge of 
that fast-decaying hedge, but I was not long in going 
back and getting them. I was then told not to give 
them up to any one without orders from my Colonel. 
After being placed in line for the attack, we had not 
long to wait. The enemy getting near enough for us 
to open fire upon them, I with pride held aloft our 



36 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

nation's emblem. The enemy being in column, and in 
the open field when we fired upon them, immediately 
wheeled in line of battle, and tried to get in the woods 
with us; but we, seeing their intention, and wishing 
to retain the advantage we had over them, advanced 
nearer the field. I being somewhat in advance of the 
most of our regiment, was ordered back by one of the 
Color Company's officers, who said that my place was 
on a line with the main part of the regiment, and not 
in advance of them. Reluctantly I went back about 
five yards. An officer of my own company seeing my 
action, asked me why I came back. When I told him, 
he said to me, "Go and do as you please, and I will be 
responsible." This was Lieut. George Hudson who 
gave me these orders, and I did do as I pleased. 

The battle now getting "pretty hot," as the boys 
said, and I, seeing the enemy getting through the fence 
which was along the edge of the woods, without any 
thought, except that of taking advantage of the enemy's 
position, called out to our boys to "charge;" they did, 
and to within about five yards of the fence, where I 
think I am safe in saying that we "laid low" about 
fifty of the enemy by one volley. They were, or many 
of them, on the fence, between the rails, or in the act 
of crawling under, and they fell in all positions. This 
greatly demoralized them, and they fell back aboiit ten 
yards, where their officers gallantly tried to rally them. 
But while in their bewildered state, we again greatly 
reduced their ranks. Seeing how rapidly they were 
being cmt down, they turned and fled. Seeing their 
colors fall, I with a bound went over the fence, and 
was just in the act of raising my flagstaff to strike the 
" rebel" who had picked up their colors, and was drag- 
ging them after him, when I was hit in the shoulder, 
and almost at the same time a bullet went into the heel 
of my shoe. This brought me to a halt, and for a 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 6i 

moment I thought that the bullet which had hit me in 
the shoulder had gone through me; but fortunately it 
was too far spent to penetrate my clothing; still it left 
me with a lame shoulder for some time. These bullets 
by which I was hit came from the enemy, who was 
some distance off to the left of us, in a piece of woods. 
This halt without doubt saved to the "Johnnies" their 
colors and one of their men, as I had every advantage 
over them before I was hit. On coming to myself, as 
I might say, I could give no further thought to that 
rebel flag, for the enemy had made an attack upon our 
troops on our right, and were driving them down on 
us. My officers calling upon me to come back, caused 
me to look around, and as I did, how quick my spirits 
fell! for there, just in the woods where we had been 
fighting, were all of our troops on a full retreat, and 
the enemy not more than fifty yards from and in pur- 
suit of them. For me to have gone back in the woods 
where I jumped the fence, would have been almost for 
me to have gone direct in the rebels' line; so I started 
for the hedge, or what little there was left of it, from 
which we had been driven; but while gaining the 
woods at the end of that hedge, how the bullets did 
whistle by me! for I was going towards those who 
were off to the left of us; therefore the bullets were 
passing both ways by me. After entering the woods, 
I was soon among a dense mob, as it appeared, for at 
this place about two hundred' men had got together 
while retreating. This gave the enemy an opportu- 
nity to create great havoc among them, which they 
took advantage of. Fortunately we soon came to a 
line of battle that had been formed, and after we 
passed over .them they checked the enemy. 

This battle I have heard called "Seven Pines," but 
it was called "Robinson's Field" by us, giving it the 
name of our Brigade Commander. The object of this 



38 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

battle, as I understood, was simply to present the enemy 
from sending troops from our left against the right of 
our army, where the enemy had made a fierce attack. 
Night setting in after the enemy had been checked, 
we were marched back to our camp, where we remain- 
ed in readiness all night. The next day Gen. Phillip 
Kearney, our Division Commander, came to where we 
were lying, just outside of our camp, he having heard 
that our regiment had acted somewhat cowardly the 
day before. I was sent to our Colonel's tent for our 
colors, and on bringing them out was ordered to unfurl 
them for the General's inspection. After he had count- 
ed the twenty-six bullet-holes which had been shot 
through our colors the day before, while I was carry- 
ing them, he asked me whether I was afraid while 
carrying the colors. I answered, "No, sir." He then 
said that my colors did not look as though I had been. 
The General then took his departure, saying that he 
was well satisfied with the conduct of our regiment in 
the previous day's battle; and well he might say so, 
for our boys fought as bravely as ever did any. The 
loss of our regiment was, I believe, seventy odd (killed 
and wounded) men; and there were but two out of my 
eight Color-Corporals to come out of the battle. 

This, ah! how sad it was to all, 
To see these noble heroes fall; 
But beneath the shadow they fell 
Of the flag they loved so well. 

Unconsciously I had greatly elevated myself in not 
only the estimation of my officers, but rank and file of 
my regiment, and was highly congratulated upon my 
success, and was told that the colors which I had so 
nobly carried should not be taken from me until I 
would be given something better. I was immediately 
made Color-Bearer, and carried the colors until they 
were taken from me by an order from the War Depart- 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 39 

ment, which will be explained hereafter in this story. 
Sergeant Dugan, I believe, was given a commission, 
and shortly after, through sickness, resigned. 

And now the battle seven days, 
With all its varied warlike rays, 
Loomed up before us like a cloud, 
But they bore it, that army proud. 

But how unexpectedly that retreat to us, for we had 
not once thought of giving up the ground that we had 
so dearly gained; but such was fate, and that grand 
old army accepted it with that cheerful obedience 
which they always displayed. During the first even- 
ing of our retreat we came upon the enemy, who had 
formed a line to cut off our retreat. Here we were in 
a dilemma, with the enemy close in our rear (Kearney's 
Division having the rear), and a line of battle in 
our front. Gen. Kearney coming up to us where we 
had been halted, ordered us to fix bayonets, saying 
that we must cut our way through. Fortunately an 
aid-de-camp came to us with his horse upon a full 
run, and after speaking a moment to Gen. Kearney, we 
were ordered to "about face." This order we obeyed 
readily, and among ourselves thanked the aid for being 
in time to save us from making a desperate charge. 
After being "about faced," we were marched a short 
distance to the rear, where we took another road, by 
which, happily, we cleared the "Johnnies." We now 
continued our retreat till a late hour that night, when 
we encamped. During the next day, after we had 
continued our retreat some distance, my regiment was 
ordered back to destroy two fords, which we did; but 
having done so, we found that we were cut off from 
the rest of our army. Here we were in a pretty fix, 
with the enemy all around us. Our Colonel marched 
us into a piece of woods, gathered us around him, and 
told us of our situation, and said that should the enemy 



-t) THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

make their appearance in a large number, he would 
surrender the regiment, but if only a small number 
showed themselves he would give fight. After remain- 
ing here about one hour, and the enemy not advancing 
on us, we were marched back a short distance across a 
small open field and took a position on the edge of a 
hill which overlooked the open field. Our new posi- 
tion being also in the woods made a good hiding-place 
for us, as well as giving us a good view about us. But 
here we did not lie long before the enemy showed 
himself and began the rebuilding of the fords that we 
had -destroyed. This was too much for our Colonel; 
so, at the risk of being instantly captured and marched 
off to Richmond, he ordered us "up and advance." 
Before hardly entering the open field the enemy open- 
ed fire upon us, but we — I say "we," meaning our 
regiment — returned that fire with the boldness of a 
division, and steadily advanced till we drove them 
just beyond the fords. Being content with driving 
the enemy thus far, our Colonel halted us. After 
lying here a short time our Colonel became impatient. 
As the enemy did not show themselves or fire upon 
us, he did not know what had become of them; " Prob- 
ably they were working around to attack us in the 
rear," he said. So, turning to a lieutenant who stood 
near him, he asked whether two or three volunteers 
could be got to go out scouting. "Yes," answered the 
lieutenant, "here's Sergeant Ryder, who will take 
charge of a scouting party for you, Colonel." The 
Colonel looked around towards me, and appeared to 
hesitate, but I jumped up and said that I would go 
willingly if he would let me pick two men to go with 
me. "Very well; pick your men," answered the Colo- 
nel. By the way, Colonel Bachia w r as as brave an 
officer as could be found, but his manner was not that 
of a "high-toned" officer; he was a perfect gentleman 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 41 

in every respect, and had the appearance of a thorough 
business man, which he was. First of all, I gave the 
staff of our colors to my Colonel, he having taken the 
colors and put them in his bosom when we first found 
that we were surrounded. I then got a rifle and ac- 
coutrements from one of my company; the two volun- 
teers I had no trouble in getting to go with me, for 
Jennings and Lamb were, like myself, always ready for 
an adventure. With orders to proceed as cautiously 
as possible, and ascertain the whereabouts of the 
enemy, we started. After going a short distance on 
the road, we were about to deploy about ten yards apart, 
but, to our great surprise, about three bullets went 
buzzing right by our heads. Lamb instantly caught 
sight of the "rebs" and ran back. I jumped behind a 
tree, but Jennings stood still till he was fired at again; 
then he turned and ran. As the second shots were 
fired, I caught sight of the rebels. The woods here 
was very thick, but just to the right of us was a large 
cluster of briers and small trees; in this cluster were 
probably five or six "Johnnies," and beyond them was 
their whole line, who had evidently been lying there 
all the time. Those who fired upon us at first, I dare 
say, were not more than ten yards from us at the time. 
As I caught sight of one of those in the cluster I took 
aim at him and fired, and then ran. The whole line 
now opened upon us, and how it was that all, or even 
one, of us escaped, was a wonder; but we all did escape 
unharmed. After I had got back to our line, and the 
enemy had ceased firing, Colonel Bachia asked me 
whether I had found the enemy. I answered "Yes, 
but not till they had found me!" "And they came 
near getting you, too, didn't they?" "Yes, but they 
didn't, Colonel," I again answered. All remaining 
quiet again, we stayed here till it was getting dusk 
when we fell back a short distance. 



At THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

We now soon learned that the roadway to our divi- 
sion was clear, which we were not long in taking advan- 
tage of. The next morning early (July 1, '62), we 
found ourselves at Malvern Hill, after a tedious night's 
march. Here we were drawn in line of battle, and 
reviewed by Gen. Geo. B. McClellan, 

Upon whom we all did look with pride, 
As he once more did by us ride; 
For well we knew how brave and true 
Was he that nobly led us through. 

And with what pride did I dip my riddled flag to him! 
He not passing more than five yards from me, I could 
plainly see that calm and determined intellect in his 
features which he always displayed. But could he 
have caught a good look at me, I think his features 
would have been changed and his mind diverted, for 
I must have been the picture of distress! 

My pants tattered, dirty and old; 
My blouse, cap and shoes just as bold! 
And being neither short nor fat, 
I was an object to look at! 

After being reviewed, 'our brigade marched out to 
the front, where a line was formed, and we lay in the 
rear of and supported a battery. We had not long to 
lie in peace, for a rebel battery soon opened on us. 
Here our artillerymen did good work; but we. while 
supporting them, suffered quite heavily, mostly from 
rebel shell. Our loss here, and that of the day before, 
began to tell on our regiment; and it began to look 
pretty small. 

Among our loss here was a brave little drummer- 
boy, "Foxey." He had taken a rifle and remained 
with his company, determined to go in the battle if 
they were engaged; but while here he was struck by a 
shell and instantly killed: 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 43 

Tenderly he was laid beneath 

The soil where he nobly died, 
And with manly tears for a wreath, 

Which brave soldiers could not hide! 

Here all day long we lay, supporting' batteries, and 
constantly aroused from a slumber that nature could 
not resist, to behold some new freak of the enemy's 
shell. I will relate one incident — that of a lieutenant 
and sergeant. They lay conversing together, with 
their elbows on the ground, their hands upright, sup- 
porting their heads. A shell came along, and took all 
of the face part from one and the back part of the head 
from the other, killing each instantly. Just to the 
left of us, the infantry as well as the artillery were 
engaged, and it was with great determination that the 
enemy tried to rout our troops. They not only failed, 
but lost heavily in their attempt. When darkness set 
in, our regiment was marched out a short distance to 
the front, where we were established as a sort of a 
picket line. Here, as we were not disturbed all night, 
we enjoyed a good rest, which we were sorely in need 
of; but on looking around, as daylight appeared the 
next morning, we were surprised to find that we were 
alone, our army having taken up their backward march 
during the night. Our Colonel, as he saw our position, 
was probably about to act, when he saw an aid beck- 
oning him to fall back. And now our march, through 
mud and rain, to Harrison's Landing, commenced. 
After falling back to the back part of Malvern Hill, 
many of our men were privileged to take mules and 
drive them to the rear. Many of these mules were 
mounted, some by two and even three of our regiment. 

But these were the real army mules, 
Who all knew were no great fools; 
So when the order "go" was given, 
Into the mud their loads were driven. 



44 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

Our boys had a hard — or I should say soft — time (as 
the mud was of such a deep and thin mixture) of it in 
riding those mules, and but a few succeeded in reach- 
ing Harrison's Landing with them. When we reached 
Harrison's Landing, it was late in the afternoon, and 
we had to get brushwood to lay in the mud that we 
might have a dry place to sleep upon. Early the next 
morning we were called up by a rebel battery of artillery. 
Our unfriendly neighbors, I think, must have been 
awake all night, otherwise they would not have spied 
us out so early. Not being able to resent their action, 
nor wishing to endure it, we removed ourselves and 
equipage to a more genial and often-sought habitation, 
the woods. Here we remained till about noon, when 
we were marched to the front, and on a line with our 
army front. Here we all built breastworks, mostly 
from old fallen trees. During the morning a division 
of our troops had driven the enemy back a short dis- 
tance, after which they halted where the general line 
of defence was established (July 4, '62). After our 
line had been established, a light firing was heard just 
to the right of us. This led us to believe that a general 
engagement was about to take place, and that we were 
among the first to participate in it; so we made every 
preparation necessary. On my color-guard was the 
young man heretofore mentioned, Wilson (from Brook- 
lyn, I believe), who said to me, when we thought we 
were about to be attacked, " Sergeant, to-day is the 
fourth of July, and, if attacked, hold forth our 

" Emblem, more precious than gold, 
With that loved spirit of the old; 
And we will stay beneath its stars, 
Or die the death of brave martyrs!" 

If his words were not of the above, their sentiments 
were, and they did not bring forth that mirthful criti- 
cism which usually attends such remarks, but instead 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARF.R. 45 

created such a determination among its hearers, that, 
should the enemy have attacked us, which we surely 
expected, they would have met with a stubborn resist- 
ance; but the attack was not made, and for a short time 
we were given a much-needed rest; and we were not 
forgotten in respect to clothing, for new ones were 
soon given us, which gift, as well as the rest, we greatly 
appreciated. 

While here at Harrison's Landing, some of our boys 
took quite a dislike to Gen. Kearney for his persistence 
in having us to drill; but they soon learned the wisdom 
of his order, as we (our division) did not lose near as 
many men through sickness as did those who had no 
drilling. 

On or about the 19th day of August, '62, we took our 
departure from Harrison's Landing for parts unknown 
(to us), but that brave army, always ready to obey 
duty's call, took up their line of march with cheer and 
song. One morning, after leaving Harrison's Landing, 
and coming off picket, where we had been all night, 
we started with the line of march without getting our 
coffee. This the boys did not like; so, when at about 
eight o'clock, a. m., Gen. Kearney, coming along our 
line, our regiment (and, I believe, the whole brigade), 
began to call out "coffee!" 

And their just call was not in vain, 
For the noble knight did soon rein 
His gallant steed to one near, 
When "Get coffee.'" came with a cheer. 

Gen. Kearney, who had formerly commanded a Jer- 
sey brigade (the Excelsiors), now commanded our di- 
vision; Hooker commanding the other division, which 
composed our corps (-3d), of which Gen. Heinsclman 
was commander. Gen. Kearney, after entering upon 
the peninsular campaign, soon gained the title of 
"Fighting Phill," but he was as quickly given credit 



46 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

for his forethought and humanity towards his soldiers, 
for all of which he was greatly beloved. We finally 
reached Yorktown, after passing through Williams- 
burg, and over its late gory battlefield. At Yorktown 
we embarked on a large transport called the Merrimac, 
and were soon headed out of the York River and up 
the Potomac, reaching Alexandria, Va., about August 
24, '02. The next day we were taken by the Alexan- 
dria and Orange Railroad to Warrenton Junction. 
After remaining here all night, we (our regiment) 
guarded a provision train to Warrenton, and remained 
there all night. The next morning we marched across 
to Bealston Station, on the Orange and Alexandria 
Railroad; from here (I believe) the next day, we were 
taken and stationed as follows: — Two companies at 
Catlett Station, two companies at Bristow Station, and 
three companies of us boarded a train to go to Manas- 
sas Junction — these stations were all on the Orange 
and Alexandria Railroad. This, if I mistake not, was 
on the 28th day of August, '02. After leaving our two 
companies at Bristow Station and boarding a train, as 
the day had been very warm and we had done consid- 
erable marching, instead of going inside of the cars 
we went on top of them, and there, as the train was 
put in motion, we were delighted to find a cooling 
breeze; and it being after sunset, the evening to us was 
delightful. How proud we were of this opportunity 
of getting to our destination without marching the 
most of the night! But we had not gone far, however, 
before, to our great surprise, the sound of rifles was 
heard, and soon their leaden missiles. Bushwhackers! 
was our first soliloquy ; but on seeing a brigade of 
cavalry charging down, and firing as they came upon 
us, we were awakened from our peaceful meditations 
as to our future, and brought to fully realize our pre- 
sent, situation. 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 47 

"SINTlMENTS" of one of our company. 

Bad cess to the gray ragged whelps 
And their owld daiffening yelps! 
And less power to their mane sowls 
For prowling about loike owls! 

Fortunately the enemy did not rein-up until they got 
as near the train as they could ride, and then, when 
they discharged the greater part of their rifles, the 
contents were sent through the cars and under us. 
Our rifles not being loaded, and as we hardly had time 
to load them, all that we could do was to lay as close 
as possible to the top of the cars — which most assuredly 
we did — and try to save ourselves from being hit. 
After getting by the enemy, we found but few of our 
men had been wounded; but the cars were given such 
extra ventilation that thereafter there would have been 
no need of going on their tops for free air. There was 
another train just behind us, following; this train did 
not fare even as well as we did, for it was thrown from 
the track and destroyed. After we had passed by the 
enemy's cavalry, we continued our journey without 
further mishaps. On reaching Manassas Junction, our 
three companies were stationed behind log-houses, so 
as to resist an attack, should one be made; but we 
hardly looked for it before the next morning; still we 
took advantage of all available means of resisting an 
immediate attack. When we arrived at the Junction, 
we found one company of cavalry there, and two 
pieces of artillery. The cavalry, after our arrival, 
were posted as out-pickets, and the artillery placed in 
position for action. There was also a picket-line es- 
tablished from our own men, who were a short dis- 
tance out from where we were posted. My Colonel, 
fearing we might be overpowered, came to me, and we 
together hid our colors under an old platform, which 
was low on the ground and extended out from the log- 



48 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

house, where my Captain (Leaycraftl, myself, and a 
few of my company were stationed. I now, not wish- 
ing - to be idle should an attack be made, searched for 
and found a rifle, and after trying to draw the two or 
three charges in it and failed, I cleared the tube the 
best I could, and then filled it with powder. I now 
placed it where it would be convenient for immediate 
use. Some of my associates cautioned me against 
using it, if I did have an occasion, and said the great- 
est danger of its use would be in its rear. 

All remaining quiet, the night soon passed along, 
and when midnight arrived we were about to take ad- 
vantage of the peaceftilness and get what sleep we 
could. But peace soon ceased to reign, for twelve 
o'clock had but just been announced when our cavalry 
came on a full run and reported the advancing of the 
enemy. Every man now jumped to his post, and we 
had not long to await the attack; and when it was 
made, the enemy being so powerful, they were soon 
among us; and I think, could they have seen the few 
there was of us, they would have felt abashed over the 
fuss they made. The whole surroundings were illu- 
minated by the flashes of their rifles, and the air was 
filled with their yells. When the attack was first 
made, I grasped my rifle, and, regardless of the admo- 
nition of my associates, took aim and fired! Two, I 
know, went down by that discharge — my rifle and 
myself! But neither was injured so badly but what 
they renewed and continued their action. I soon saw 
that the enemy would capture us all, unless a few 
could very soon make their escape. Not wishing to 
be taken prisoner, or run the risk of my colors remain- 
ing safe where they were, and recovered afterward, I 
threw myself on the ground, after firing a shot, reach- 
ed and drew my colors from their hiding-place. This 
was not easily done, for the staff had been put under 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 4!) 

from the other side, and I could at first only reach the 
end of the spear, and the shot that I had fired drew 
upon me many in return, but they passed harmlessly 
oyer me. Having- got my colors, I jumped behind the 
house where my Captain and others were. As I did 
so, my Captain asked me what I was going to do. I 
said, "Make my escape, if possible." He began to 
remonstrate by saying it was impossible for any of us 
to get away. But I did not await his reasoning; seeing 
a small place where there was no firing, I took advan- 
tage of this outlet, and although I heard many com- 
mands of "Surrender" and "Halt," while the bullets 
were making great music around my head, still I did 
not slacken my speed until I, with my flag, had made 
good my escape. Having ran some distance, I began to 
think of future action. I was now where I had never 
been before, and knew nothing of my surroundings. 
Finally, a large white house loomed up before me; this 
I did not wish to get any nearer to than I was, for I 
did not know who its inmates might be, so I made my 
way into a swampy piece of woods, where most of the 
trees were low and bushy; here I hid my flag, marked 
the place, and then went off a short distance and laid 
down, thinking to wait until daylight, when I would 
try to get out of my dilemma. While lying, the fol- 
lowing was prominent in my thoughts: 

What great buoyancy there is in 
The battle, when you nobly win; 
But quite the reverse, when you go 
Beaten and routed by the foe. 

This I now fully realized, but I did not dwell long 
upon its truth, for in a few minutes I heard the reports 
of rifles near me and their bullets passing by. Again 
my flag and myself started for a more genial land. 
Dimly seeing through the darkness a woods of tall 
heavy timber, I made my way towards it, and as I 



."iO THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

reached its edge I came to a deep ditch. I had heard 
of such a ditch or creek in the neighborhood of the 
Bull Run battle-grounds, and believing this to be it I 
thought it would lead me to the railroad (Orange and 
Alexandria), so I started along its edge. After making 
my way for some distance through its not altogether 
free and pleasant path, I heard voices ahead of me, 
but not, however, until I had been heard, for almost 
the first words I heard from them were, "Who comes 
there?" Thinking it as well to answer truthfully as 
otherwise, I said, "One of the 87th New York," and 
at the same time my mind was made up to jump to one 
side if I was ordered to surrender, and if possible make 
my escape; but my challengers proved to be one of my 
own regiment and two of the cavalry company that had 
been with us. The one (Simpson) of my regiment 
partly recognizing my voice, said, " Is that you, Ryder?" 
I, on answering in the affirmative, was told to hurry, 
as the enemy was not far behind. They having been 
on the left of the picket-line had, in falling back, got 
on the railroad, by which they were now escaping. 
After joing them, we remained on the railroad till we 
came to a camp of one of the cavalry companies, where 
we remained until just after sunrise. After I had 
joined Simpson and the two cavalrymen, we came, 
while upon our way back, upon two trains which had 
left Manassas Junction some time before we were at- 
tacked. The first that left, on reaching a water-tank, 
stopped for water, and, while there, was run into by 
the second. Both locomotives were totally wrecked 
by this accident, also their cars. As we looked through 
the cars, we saw probably ten or twelve men killed by 
the accident; at first we thought it had been the work 
of the enemy, but, upon examination, we saw how it 
had happened. The little time that Simpson and my- 
self were at the cavalry camp afforded us but little 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 51 

rest, and scarcely any sleep. Exerting myself to my 
utmost ability, when I first started to make my escape, 
I found my haversack and canteen were more excited 
than I was; they were jumping about me in a great 
fashion; so, not wishing to have my progress impeded 
in any way, I quickly threw them from my shoulders, 
and left them to look out for themselves. But the 
next morning, how I would like to have had the con- 
tents of my haversack! Fortunately, the cavalrymen 
gave Simpson and me two " hard tack" each and a 
small portion of their coffee; this, though a "light" 
breakfast, greatly revived us. In justice to the cavalry- 
men, I will say that their meal was about as "light" as 
ours. When Simpson and I had finished our " hard 
tack," we were about to decide upon some plan of pro- 
cedure, but the question was decided by a Jersey bri- 
gade coming from Alexandria by train. As they passed 
us, all sorts of abuse was heaped upon us by them. We 
tried to board the train, so as to go out to the front 
with them, but the train was under too great headway, 
so we followed as quickly as we could, intending, if we 
reached them before they went into battle, to join their 
ranks, and show them that we were not the " stragglers" 
or "beats" that they had termed us. As the train 
neared the open field from which, about three-fourths 
of a mile out, was Manassas Junction, it stopped, and 
the troops were soon off and formed in line. Gen. 
Taylor, who was in command, with his staff, imme- 
diately rode out in the open field. This brought them 
in full view of the enemy, who did not lose a moment 
in opening a fire upon them, and their fire was so 
successful that Gen. Taylor was instantly mortally 
wounded, and one or two of his staff wounded quite 
badly. Gen. Taylor died in about two days after being 
wounded. The result of the enemy's battery (for such 
it was that had wounded Gen. Taylor and two of his 



r>2 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

officers) appeared to instantly demoralize the whole 
brigade; and Simpson and myself were completely 
taken aback when we saw the "every-man-for-himself" 
retreat they were on. "Now it is our turn to laugh," 
said Simpson to me, and we did not hesitate in doing 
it; still we regretted the sad fate of the General and 
his staff officers as much as did any. As soon as the 
brigade had passed to the rear of us, we leisurely took 
up our retreat, for we knew there was no cause for 
great exertion, as the enemy would have all they could 
attend to in the opposite direction, where o;ir whole 
army was. After going back some distance, we came 
upon some of the Jersey brigade, who said they were 
going to stay there, and had orders to keep all who 
came to them. This Simpson and I did not object to, 
as we were only too anxious to get in with some party 
that had rations and would be likely to go out to the 
front as soon as an opportunity offered itself. But, to 
our great surprise, we soon found this party falling 
back — for what reason we did not know; so there was 
nothing for us to do but follow, which we did till we 
came to another halt, when we were led to believe that 
all were to remain until the next morning, when an 
advance would be made; but again, to our great sur- 
prise, a locomotive with four or five cars came out to 
us at about eight o'clock, p. m., and, returning imme- 
diately, conveyed all of our associates to Alexandria. 
Simpson and I, not supposing they were going to board 
the train, were left a short distance out one side, where 
we had been lying down resting ourselves, and had 
occasionally caught a moment's sleep; still we were 
lying where there were many others, and when we 
were aroused, probably by the locomotive, we instantly 
realized our situation. The train was just leaving, 
and we were left alone. It was now getting quite dark, 
the woods making it more so. This was sad for us, 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. ~)3 

but we were obliged to make the best of it ; so we 
started off boldly to walk to Alexandria. Just after 
midnight we reached (I believe) Burk's Station, where 
we found ten or twelve of the brigade, who wanted us 
to remain there with them until morning; but as we 
could see there would be nothing gained by doing so, 
we continued on our journey. About daybreak we 
reached the open field, which was yet some distance 
from Alexandria. Here we lay down to have a rest; 
but there was no rest for. us there, as the mosquitoes 
appeared to seriously object to it, so we were again 
to " tramp" on. We were now feeling greatly fatigued 
and in want of something to eat, as we had eaten 
nothing since the morning before, when we got the 
two crackers each from the cavalrymen. Finally, we 
saw, a short distance ahead of us, a commissary de- 
partment. This gave us new courage, and our steps 
became quicker; but this, however, was not to last long, 
for on reaching the commissary department, and ask- 
ing a man, probably about fifty years of age, for a few 
crackers (of which there were plenty even lying on 
the ground, which we would have been thankful for), 
he turned and stared at us for a moment, and then said: 
" If you want something to eat, you should go and join 
your regiment, and not come around here begging." 
This greatly aroused our ire, and we in very plain 
words told him what we thought of him, and then con- 
tinued our journey. 

On reaching Alexandria, we met an old colored man, 
of whom we inquired as to where we could get some- 
thing to eat. He informed us that there was a place 
near-by where crackers and soup were given out at 
noon each day. It now being near noon, we soon sought 
and found this place, where we greatly relished a bowl 
of soup and two crackers which were unhesitatingly 
given us. We now went in search of Co. F, of our 



54 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

regiment, which had been left to do duty in Alexandria. 
After finding them, it was a great relief to both Simp- 
son and myself. As we were well tired out that night, 
I assure you we slept well. But the next night we 
were carrying wounded from the cars till a late hour, 
and the only one that I knew personally was William 
Willett, of my village, who was wounded in the head. 
He belonged to the 12th New York. 

After remaining in Alexandria a few days, we re- 
ceived orders to march out to Arlington Heights, and 
were informed that a portion of our regiment was en- 
camped there; after being captured by the enemy they 
were paroled. While marching out, I had my colors 
unfurled while carrying them; still they attracted but 
little attention until we reached our own boys, 

When, hark! what hearty cheers were those! 
And look! and see from whence they rose! 
It was the glad and thankful cheer 
Of those who loved their colors dear! 

On entering the camp of my late associates, I could 
not answer half the questions asked me by them con- 
cerning my escape. They had not thought it possible. 
My Colonel said to me, that, after he had heard that I 
had taken the colors from their hiding-place, he had 
regretted my act. as he felt positive that I had been 
killed or wounded, and that the colors had fallen into 
the hands of the enemy; if they had been left in their 
hiding-place, he said, they would have been burnt up, 
as were all the buildings at the Station — which he 
would rather have seen than to have had the enemy 
get them; but as he now saw that both (the colors and 
myself) were safe, his misfortune was greatly lightened. 
These were the sentiments of all who were captured; 
and all of those three companies who were at the Junc- 
tion were captured, with the exception of, I believe, 
three or four of us. After I had joined this portion of 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 00 

my regiment, I learned the fate of the other companies 
when we were attacked at midnight. The other com- 
panies were also attacked, and many of them were 
either killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. The Cap- 
tain of "H" Company (Sullivan), who would not sur- 
render when ordered to do so, was shot through the 
head, and killed instantly, while trying to make his 
escape. As there were but a few of our regiment left 
for duty (those who had been paroled being debarred), 
an order was issued from the War Department con- 
solidating us (the rank and file) into the 40th New 
York Volunteers. 

Here a scene of great tumult rose, 
Nearly ending in blood of those 
Who were clothed in bright valor grand 
By heroic deeds for our land. 

The act of consolidation created a great deal of dissa- 
tisfaction in our regiment, and when we were marched 
to the camp of the 40th, and halted in line of battle in 
front of them, who were also in line, we still felt a 
greater aversion to the consolidation. After the order 
had been read to us by Col. Ward (afterwards General), 
of the 28th New York Volunteers, we were asked by 
him whether we were willing to submit to the order? 
In answer nearly every man said "No!" and the "No" 
rang out so clear that there was no mistaking it. Col. 
Ward then said, if we would not come in willingly, he 
would force us in, or shoot us down, or words to that 
effect; so he gave the 4()th the order to load. This 
order the 87th obeyed, as well as did the 40th; also the 
command " Ready!" Our two regiments were not more 
than fifty yards apart, and facing each other. Col. Ward, 
seeing what the result of proceeding in that course 
would be, wisely changed his tactics, and gave the 
command, "Shoulder arms!" Each man was now 
taken, as he was told, a prisoner, and placed in the 



56 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

ranks of the respective companies; after which we 
were all marched into the 40th camp with both of our 
colors flying. After this we heard nothing more of 
being prisoners ; we did our duty together, and were 
all treated alike. Upon all occasions, when the regi- 
ment was out, our two colors were carried together, I 
carrying the 87th's, and the 40th's color-bearer carrying 
theirs. I continued to carry the 87th's colors until 
taken from me by an order from the War Department, 
as heretofore mentioned. 

Shortly after being consolidated, we were marched 
across the Potomac, and up through Maryland, to or 
near White's Ford. While here, Lieut. George Hudson 
came and got our colors (first part of Oct., '(!2). Al- 
though it was very hard for me to part with them, and 
it appeared unjust, still the order had to be obeyed, 
every man (those of the late 87th) feeling their loss, I 
believe, nearly, if not quite, as keenly as I did. But 
there was one thing that we all felt proud of, and that 
was, that not only ourselves felt that we had fulfilled 
our obligations in respect to our old flag, but that it 
was freely acknowledged by our officers. Lieut. Hudson 
bringing a letter of high praise of my past conduct to 
the Colonel of the 40th, caused that gentleman and 
soldier to say to me that I, having been recommended 
so highly, he could not put me back in my company, 
neither could he give me the 40th's National flag, as 
the one who was then carrying it was the fourth to 
carry it in the late battle (Bull Run), but what he could 
and would do was to give me their State flag, which 
he did ; so I still remained a Sergeant and Color- 
Bearer. I might say here, that when we were attacked 
at Manassas Junction, it was, as I might say, the com- 
mencement of the second Bull Run, and that Chantilly 
was a continuation of the battle. Our march up 
through Maryland was so hurriedly that we could not 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-HEARER. 57 

at first account for it, only in this way, that of having 
a cavalry General, Stoneman, in command of us, in- 
stead of our own (Kearney), 

Noble and beloved one; armed knight, 
Who met death in Chantilly fight; 
But contageous was his spirit, 
And we all had well inhaled it. 

So, even though our march was hurriedly, and of long 
hours, we did not murmur, but cheerfully did our duty. 
But on reaching our destination we learned the cause 
of our hurried "march. Confederate Gen. Stuart had, 
on the lfith of October, '62, crossed the Potomac, and 
had rode through a part of Maryland, and even in 
Pennsylvania, doing considerable damage. We, on the 
12th of October, '62, having just arrived, we (40th) 
were marching along the Potomac towards and near 
White's Ford, when we saw the enemy on the opposite 
side of the Potomac, they having just crossed. We now 
used greater exertions, in order to reach White's Ford, 
and, if possible, prevent any more of them from cross- 
ing; but as we arrived at the Ford we found it well 
guarded by a battery of artillery, and as the road which 
we were on was very narrow — made so by the Potomac 
on one side and a high cliff on the other — we were un- 
able to form a line of battle, and charge it; so Colonel 
Egan marched us a short distance to the rear, and then 
entered the woods, thinking to find a place where we 
could charge down upon them; but while we were 
marching through the woods the battery crossed, and 
thus the last of Stuart's men made their escape, and 
were again safe on Virginia soil. It was believed at 
this time that Stuart, with all of his command, could 
and would have been captured, only for some misun- 
derstanding between some of our corps' commanders. 
We were now encamped at White's Ford, and hav- 
ing lately got new clothing, and getting oiir rations 



58 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

regularly, we greatly enjoyed our camp life. Our duty, 
while encamped here, was light. Occasioeally we 
would ford the river and go on a reconnoitreing expe- 
dition in Virginia. These expeditions always proved 
to be of a pleasant character. 

On October 20, '62, we again crossed the Potomac, 
and with the Army of the Potomac advanced towards 
Warrenton, commanded by our long-trusted General, 
McClellan, which well pleased us; but this pleasure 
we were not long allowed to retain, for on our arrival 
at Warrenton, McClellan was relieved of command 
(November 7, '62), and Gen. Burnside assumed com- 
mand three days later (10th). The relieving of Mc- 
Clellan from his command of the Army of the Potomac 
was believed by many of his old command to be through 
prejudice; and as they always had great confidence in 
him, it was with regret that they saw him go 

From those he loved with that high pride 
Which is infused when by the side 
Of valiant freemen of one's land 
United in an army grand. 

McClellan's presence always brought forth great cheer- 
ing from his army, but on taking his leave he was 
cheered as no other officer ever was; 

Its echo rang o'er hill and dell, 
And told our nation all too well 
How dear they loved their "little Mac," 
And how they longed to have him back! 

After Gen. Burnside took command, we were marched 
towards Fredericksburg, a portion of our army reach- 
ing Falmouth (which is on the Rappahannock River, 
and nearly opposite Fredericksburg), Nov. IT, '62, and 
it was but a few days before our whole army was en- 
camped, facing the enemy, with only the narrow river 
between us. Here we remained until December 10, '62, 
when preparations were made for an attack. The work 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-HEARER. 59 

of getting our army across the river was hardly accom- 
plished till the 12th, they being obliged to cross on 
pontoon bridges, which made their progress very slow. 
When the 40th started for the scene of action, it was 
with some pride that I unfurled and carried aloft that 
well-deserved historic regiment's flag. I was now the 
Color-Bearer of the 40th, having been given that posi- 
tion about the time our army arrived at Warrenton 
(Nov. 7), through sickness of the former color-sergeant, 
who had been obliged to go to a hospital. The National 
flag I now carried was a new one, and we had only had 
it about two weeks. The first day that I carried it was 
on a grand review of the army by President Lincoln; 
and the second, 

Not a review of grandeur bright, 
But of great courage and its might, 
And the carnage of that affray, 
Which causes sorrow till this day. 

When we left our camp, we marched to the pontoon 
bridges opposite Fredericksburg, and there we expect- 
ed to cross the river; but we did not; we were halted 
and kept together until about 9 o'clock, p. m., when we 
were ordered in line, and marched hurriedly, until 
about midnight, towards the left, where Gen. Franklin 
crossed. Here we halted, and remained until the next 
morning, Dec. 13, '62, when we were called up early 
and told to get coffee. Little time was given us, how- 
ever, to get that morning's meal, for hardly had we 
drank our coffee, when we were ordered to "fall in," 
and again we took up our line of march, and did not 
halt until we reached the edge of the river, and then 
only for a few moments, when we (all of our brigade) 
crossed the river — near where Gen. George Washington 
passed his childhood days — and were ordered on the 
double quick; the horses drawing our artillery were 
whipped to their utmost speed; and thus we went out 



60 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

about one mile, where we formed a line of battle, and 
none too soon either, for the enemy had Gen. Franklin's 
troops completely routed, who had- at first driven the 
enemy. On forming our line on a long ridge, our ar- 
tillery, with their horses on the run, came in position, 
unlimbered, and ran their caissons a short distance to 
the rear, and immediately opened fire. The infantry 
came in on the run and formed a line in their rear. 
Here our artillery exhibited the coolest of bravery, 
and I doubt whether their heroism was ever excelled. 
After fully establishing our line, our artillery, although 
well tested, finally checked and caused the enemy to 
fall back under cover of the woods. 

For a few hours now all remained quiet, with the 
exception of the "rebel" sharpshooters, who kept up a 
steady fire upon us with considerable effect, till we got 
a small rifle-pit, which protected our heads. Previous 
to getting this rifle-pit, we used our blankets, rolled 
tight, for head-protectors, which rendered good service. 
As we were lying down, nearly every man that was hit 
was hit in the head. During the afternoon the fighting 
was very severe at Fredericksburg, and in fact along our 
whole line to the right of us; and it was probably to 
see whether the enemy had withdrawn from our front 
that my regiment and the 38th New York were sent 
into a piece of woods in our front, which was not more 
than three hundred yards from our main line. But 
just before coming to the woods, we came upon a deep 
ditch; this a few jumped, but the most of our men were 
obliged to jump into it and then crawl out. The two 
regiments of us were in one line as we advanced, and 
the rebel pickets kept up a steady fire upon us; still 
we continued till near the woods, when the most, if not 
all, of the rebel pickets surrendered to us. They were 
sent to the rear without escort. We now opened fire, 
and were soon a short distance in the woods, where we 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. M 

met an overwhelming' force. So great was this force, 
and so near were we to them, that by the determined 
stand our two regiments took, few survived it. Just 
in the point of the woods where we entered the Fred- 
ericksburg and Potomac Railroad ran through, and as 
I was crossing this railroad a bullet passed through 
one side of my flagstaff, cutting one-half away, about 
three inches above my right hand, with which I was 
carrying my colors. This caused my flag to fall, and 
some who had seen it circulated the report that I had 
been killed. After my colors fell, I immediately picked 
them up and continued my advance, but went only a 
short distance beyond the railroad. The enemy were 
now not more than from ten to fifteen yards in front 
of us, and they were crossing the railroad and getting 
in the rear of us about twenty yards to my right. On 
observing this I also noticed that I was there alone — 
with the exception of dead and wounded. What few 
of our two regiments as had been yet spared were try- 
ing to make their escape, and the nearest of them to 
me was some ten yards in my rear, and on the retreat. 
So great was the enemy's firing now, that it did not 
appear possible that I could get clear, but to stay where 
I was my colors would be in the enemy's hands in a 
moment's time. The thought of this fairly maddened 
me, yet it looked to me sure death to make the attempt 
of escape; still realizing my position, I lost no time; 
so, gathering my colors about their staff, I started, 
and bounding with such swiftness that it appeared but 
like a flash, my colors were transferred from their 
perilous position to one of safety. How thankful I was 
when I reached the few that were spared to retreat! 
for, while with them, if I fell, my colors would be picked 
up and saved. On reaching the ditch, I easily sprang 
over it; but some, who were unable to do so, jumped 
into it, and there remained. After I had crossed the 



62 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

ditch, a lieutenant of the 38th held their flag, and called 
out for the 38th to stand, and added, " Let the 40th run, 
if they wish." This was too much for me, so I instantly 
drove the end of my flag-staff in the ground, and called 
for the 40th to rally, adding, that the 40th would stand 
as long as the 38th or any other regiment. But how 
sad, on looking' around me, to see how few there were 
left of us; still what few there were rallied with a 
braveness that never was excelled. In a moment after- 
wards I chanced to look around, but did not see that 
lieutenant or his flag! The artillerymen now calling" 
for us to fall back to the right, we did so, and then they 
opened on the advancing line of about two full bri- 
gades, who were closely following us. On reaching 
our line, I entered where Gen. Ward, who commanded 
our brigade, was standing with his staff officers (they 
were on horseback). When I came up to Gen. Ward, 
with his sword uplifted, he asked me whose colors I 
had. I answered, "The 40th New York's." "Where 
are you going with them?" he then said. I answering" 
again, said "In behind the artillery." "Go on, then," 
said the General; and as I went, so did he, but he went 
to the rear. On reaching a few of my regiment, I laid 
down with them in the rear of our artillery. I say "in 
the rear;" but what few there were in the rear of the 
guns were only a short distance — the most of us were 
on a line, in between the guns. The enemy continuing 
their charge, they were but a short distance from us 
when I laid down. On this line we had, I believe, sixty 
pieces of artillery, and they were but five yards apart, 
and all raking grape and canister into the advancing 
line; still on they came, with such determined steadi- 
ness that it did not appear possible to check them; yet 
our artillerymen, with their grape and canister, were 
creating great havoc in their ranks; but on they came, 
cheering and yelling, and their officers urging them on 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 63 

in the charge. They came, some of them, to within 
five yards of our guns; but their ranks having been 
greatly thinned, and our artillery continuing their 
steady destruction, and the sight of the infantry who 
were waiting their part, were too much for their (as it 
must be admitted) great courage, so they broke and 
fled, many of whom took refuge in the ditch, and re- 
mained there, with a few of our men, until a company 
of a Pennsylvania regiment belonging to our brigade 
charged down and captured all. 

The enemy lost heavily in this charge, their killed 
and wounded commencing five yards from our guns 
and continuing all the way to the woods. The distance 
from where I was lying to one of the enemy's dead was 
six paces, as I paced it myself. 

After the enemy had fallen back, all of my regiment 
were got together, and we found that out of 96 men 
who had gone into the battle there were but 16 left for 
duty! We had, before going into the battle, 125 men, 
25 of whom were detailed to help one of our batteries, 
and -4 men were left behind when we crossed the river. 
Colonel Egan being absent on leave, our Lieutenant- 
Colonel commanded the regiment. He was wounded 
while in the battle, and twice while being taken to the 
rear; the two latter wounds were from pieces of shells. 
When our regiment was formed together, it was but a 
small company, and we had only, I believe, three 
officers. If I regretted the loss of one man more than 
another, it was the loss of my long associate, Wilson, 
of whom I have heretofore made mention. On the 
4th of July, while at Harrison's Landing, Wilson, I 
believe, was killed, as I never heard of him after. 

The next day (the 14th,) a flag of truce went in from 
our line to the enemy's, and after a little delay ar- 
rangements were made for burying the dead. - 



»>4 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

This, I think, was the greatest sight 
Ever witnessed after a fight, 
There mingling together those foes — 
Some in greatest mirth; others, woes. 

It was a sight rarely, if ever, seen, such as we wit- 
nessed when the Federal and Confederate details went 
upon that open field and began that sad and laborious 
duty. This was taken advantage of by both main 
lines, and in a short time there were those two great 
hostile bodies mingling together with the greatest of 
friendship. 

The sight revere, of blue and gray, 
As they their dead lay away; 
Again, the blue and gray in mirth 
Upon that deep-crimsoned earth. 

The picture of which, to one who would think calmly, 
was of great depth. After the burying of the. dead, 
those two great bodies of unrestrained men were again 
quickly converted into two great hostile armies, and 
assumed their former positions and attitudes, that of 
being ready, upon provocation, to deluge that already 
blood-stained field. But war often has a bright side. 
While these men were together on the field (while the 
burying was being performed), they agreed among 
each other to have no firing, unless one or the other 
advanced to make an attack. This gave all, during 
the remainder of our stay, the privilege of standing or 
walking about, which was a great relief. On the L5th 
we recrossed the river, under cover of the darkness. 
As we had been lying very near the enemy, it required 
great stealth on our part to make our escape unsus- 
pected; but this we accomplished. Thus ended the 
battle of Fredericksburg, a sad defeat to the Union 
armies. After I had fallen back in the rear of our 
artillery, and all had become quiet, my colors were 
examined by all who were near. In that battle there 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 65 

had been 22 bullets shot through my flag, one through 
the staff, about three inches above my hand, and 
another through the staff, in about the middle of the 
blue ground, tearing a large three-cornered hole. 
While here, my name was taken in full by one of the 
officers, but I did not suspect the reason thereof. Shortly 
after we had returned to our old camp, an order was 
read, while we were on dress parade, announcing my 
promotion with others. I was placed in command of 
Company B, whose Captain (Foster) had been wounded 
so badly that he never was able for duty again, and its 
other officers, I believe, were killed. I had not been 
in command of my company long when I was sent for 
by my Colonel, and on entering his tent I found all of 
our officers and some of our brigade staff officers 
there, and to my great surprise I was called up and 
presented with a handsome gold medal. This medal, 
I was informed afterwards, cost fifty dollars, and was 
got up by a firm in Boston, Mass. (Bigelow Bros. & 
Kennard.) On one side are engraved my initials, 
" R. H. R." and the American Eagle; on the other is: 

"PRESENTED BY THE 

Officers of the 40th Regt. N. Y. Volunteers 

TO 

COLOR-BEARER RICHARD H. RYDER, 

FOR 

His Bravery at the Battle of Fredericksburg, Va., 
Dec. 13, 1862." 

Both of these acts— that of my commission and the 
medal — were a great surprise to me, for I had not 
thought that I had merited so much consideration, and 
knew that I had only done my duty as all of my asso- 
ciates did. The position that I held — Color-Bearer — 
had come to be looked upon with great distrust, as in 
every other battle the 40th had been in they had lost 
their color-bearer, and in some eases two or three: 



66 THE VILLAGE COLOR-LEARER. 

with me, I had been forttinat© while carrying the 
colors, but my color-corporals had been unfortunate, 
as I had lost nearly all of them in every battle I had 
been in. 

TO THE OFFICERS OF THE 40th N. V. VOLS. 
In decking me with this bright gem, 
You were decked with a diadem 
More precious than your golden gift, 
Which ever will your names uplift. 

After returning to our camp, all remained quiet until 
the 26th day of January, L863, when the "Burnside 
stick in the mud," as it was called, took place. There 
was no doubting Gen. Burnside's loyalty or sincerity 
of purpose, but there was great doubt as to his ability 
in coping with Gen. Lee; still fortune appeared to be 
against him, and it would be unjust to censure him 
for his mishaps while in command. After we had, on 
the 26th, again started to cross the Rappahannock and 
attack the enemy, a rain set in, and it was surprising 
how muddy the roads became, and in such a short 
time. The crossing was to have been just above Fred- 
ericksburg. Our brigade was on the advance, and, as 
I understood, our regiment (40th j was to have been 
the first to cross the river. As night set in we halted 
near the river, and remained there all night; but what 
a night it was! — a cold rain falling upon us all night; 
and it was with thankful hearts that we saw that it 
was impossible for our artillery to be got up the next 
morning. Still Gen. Burnside showed a determination 
to cross, and when mules and horses could not draw 
the artillery, whole regiments were used; but when it 
was found that all failed, the crossing was abandoned, 
and the army took up their return march, feeling sad 
because they had met with such poor success of late, 
but thankful that this affair was not another Frede- 
ricksburg. Shortly after this, Gen. Biirnside resigned, 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. R"i 

and Gen. Hooker was placed in command. " Fighting 
Joe," as he was called, was well liked by all of his 
army, for his association with them had proved his 
character and worth; but it was feared by many of the 
army that he would meet with no better success than 
did Gen. Burnside. 

When Spring" had fully set in, the grand old array 
was again called upon to do battle, and nobly they re- 
sponded; and when they, on the 1st day of May, 1863, 
began the Chancellorsville battle, it was with a cheer- 
ful determination that they fought to win, if possible. 
When we (I believe our whole corps) left our camp, we 
were marched about two miles above Fredericksburg, 
and then, by a forced march till midnight, to where 
our main army crossed the Rapidan River. Here we 
remained until daylight, when we again "fell in" and 
marched across the river, and just before sunset that 
day we were within about two hundred yards of and 
facing the enemy, who were in rifle-pits in a piece of 
woods. Our line here was on an old plank or turnpike 
road, and joined on Gen. Howard's (11th Army Corps) 
left, Gen. Howard's corps having the extreme right of 
our army's line. The next day (2nd), Gen. Sickels, who 
was now commanding our (3rd) corps — at first com- 
manded by Gen. Heintzelman — saw that an opportu- 
nity had presented itself for him to make an attack, 
so he sought and obtained permission to do so. Our 
corps was now soon put in motion, and we began our 
advance, and as we did the enemy began their retreat, 
and before sunset we had them completely routed, and 
we were hilarious over our triumph and their promis- 
cuous retreat. As an attack had also been made at 
Fredericksburg, we believed they as well as us had 
been victorious, and that now we had gained a complete 
victory; but how sad "it was for us when we learned 
that when wc had gut the enemy completely routed, 



68 THE VILLAGE COLOR-HEARER. 

they had completely routed the 11th Corps, and that 
we now were obliged to retrace our steps, which we 
did, and at midnight made a charge upon the enemy, 
who were lying on the very ground that we held that 
morning, and we charging from the position that they 
held. As our division entered upon this charge, our 
orders were to use only the bayonet, and no rifles were 
to be loaded. The order for my regiment was to march 
up a road in column, by companies, till opposite the 
enemy's right flank, then wheel in line of battle and 
charge upon their flank. Having marched a short dis- 
tance up this road, we came upon the enemy in great 
force on both sides of the road, who opened upon us 
with such a tremendous fire that we were obliged to fall 
back; we even made the third attempt to break them, 
but with no better success. Shortly after our third 
charge, my Colonel said that he believed the enemy 
had fallen back, and ordered me to take a detail and 
go up the road, and if I met with no opposition to con- 
tinue till I reached the plank road (where our line was 
that morning), and then send word back to him and 
he would bring the regiment out. I got a detail of ten 
men and one sergeant, and then started. I did not 
believe for one moment that the enemy had fallen back; 
so after leaving my regiment, I sent the sergeant on 
the opposite side of the road, and ordered him to deploy 
his men and advance cautiously, telling him also that 
I would do the same on my side, and that I would keep 
near the road, and if he heard any signs of me coming 
upon the enemy to halt his men, and then act as his 
judgment taught him ; also to use his own judgment 
should he come upon the enemy — which I did not think 
likely, as I felt sure that I would come upon them first. 
This midnight charge was called the "moonlight 
charge;" but when I began my advance with my detail 
we were obliged to grope our way through the woods, 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 69 

and when I reached the place where my regiment had 
been fired upon, I was in the act of making" my way 
through a thick cluster of low bushes, when one of my 
men, who was with men, pulled me back and pointed 
through the bushes. On looking I there could see, not 
more than five yards ahead of me, the rebel line lying 
down. I was about to try and get back, but just then 
Col. Egan came riding up the road and calling me. 
Knowing that unless I answered him, he would ride 
into the enemy's line and be taken prisoner; so I an- 
swered. I was then ordered by my Colonel to send 
one of my men for a wounded man who was calling for 
some one to come and get him; but no sooner had my 
Colonel given me the order than I was ordered to come 
in and give myself up, and Col. Egan was ordered to 
dismount and surrender. When he was ordered to 
surrender, he asked who it was that dared to order him 
to surrender. "It makes no difference who I am; you 
dismount and surrender this instant, or I will bring 
you down from that horse," was the answer. Col. Egan 
then immediately wheeled his horse about, and mid a 
shower of bullets made good his escape. When I was 
ordered to surrender, the man who was by my side said 
to me, "Well, I suppose we have got to surrender." I 
answered, saying "I suppose we have;" whereupon he 
walked in and gave himself up. I standing still for a 
moment listening to the parley between the rebel 
officer and my Colonel made me think that I might yet 
get away; so, when my Colonel was fired upon, I took 
a few steps back. This gave me courage to " make a 
break for freedom;" so I turned and ran; but before 
getting back to my regiment, I came upon my whole 
detail, with the exception of the one who had given 
himself up. I then placed them in position, and gave 
the order, if the enemy advanced, to fire and fall back 
slow. I then went back to report, but just as I reached 



70 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

my regiment my detail began to fire, so I instantly re- 
turned to them and found that the enemy were advanc- 
ing. We all then fell back to our regiment, which was 
still lying in the woods alone, and about fifty yards in 
front of our main line. The enemy continuing to ad- 
vance, and keeping up their firing, caused those of our 
main line in our rear to open fire. This placed us not 
only in a queer but dangerous position; we all instantly 
lay flat upon the ground, but the firing being so great we 
lay but a second, when we began to crawl out towards 
the right. Fortunately we soon got out from under 
the fire ; but now to get back in our line caused a 
serious thought, for there was none but the enemy 
supposed to be in front of the line where we wished to 
enter. After a moment's consultation, Capt. Stevens 
and myself were chosen to go in, so we started boldly, 
and conversing' as we went. Just before getting to our 
line, the welcome words. "Who comes there?" greeted 
our ears. We answered, "Friends," and then told our 
story. An officer being called, one of us was ordered 
to advance, and soon the other, after which arrange- 
ments were soon made for bringing in our regiment. 
I might say here that great credit is due the picket 
(who was not more than five yards in front of the main 
line), who challenged us, for many, under the circum- 
stances, it being very dark, and believing that none 
but the enemy were in their front, would have fired 
upon us instead of challenging, which in all probability 
would have been the cause of annihilating the few 
that were now left of us. I might say here, also, that 
our regiment had been somewhat recruited since the 
battle of Fredericksburg, Dec. 13, so that on entering 
this battle we numbered about 150 men. After getting 
in the rear of the main line, we were allowed a rest; but 
the rest did not last long, for about sunrise, or just 
after, the enemy made a grand attack. Through all of 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 71 

this day we supported batteries. The battle being so 
fierce, the enemy fighting with such determination, 
our troops were obliged to keep constantly falling back 
till we came to where we could throw up breastworks. 
Here we checked the enemy, and we continued to hold 
them in check until the (5th instant, when we evacuated 
and fell back across the Rapidan River, and again re- 
turned to our old camping ground. Thus with great 
loss we suffered another defeat. 

After this battle — our regiment having been again 
greatly reduced — another order of consolidation was 
issued. This order consolidated some of our companies 
into others, and dispensed with some of our officers. 
We now had the three-year men of the 37th and 38th 
New York Regiments (they were two-year regiments) 
placed in ours; also the 55th and some other regiment 
of New York State. When my company was consoli- 
dated I was placed in command of " E" Company, 
which was composed principally of the 55th men. This 
company numbered about fifty, and I even yet feel 
the pride of commanding that company of such noble 
heroes; they were disciplined and their drilling was 
perfect, and they were all "battle-proven soldiers;" 
but my pleasant connection with them was not to last 
long, for a number of our officers had to be mustered 
out so as to admit a portion of the 55th's officers. Col. 
Egan, not wishing to decide who should be mustered 
out, sent a circular around among the officers, asking 
who of them wished to resign, also stating the cause 
and particulars of the circular. Our officers, having 
previously gained some information as to what the 
result of the consolidation would be, now held a con- 
sultation among themselves, which resulted, I am proud 
to say, in proving their yet steadfast patriotism and 
willingness to continue the battle for the Union, but 
they wished to continue it in their old regiment. After 



72 THE VILLAGE COLOR-REARER 

the consolidation I tried to view the question fairly; 
my thoughts were as to who had the best right to re- 
main in the regiment. It was true the consolidated 
men had the same right as the original members had, 
and they were treated with the same respect; still, as 
I had been treated as fairly by them, could I consist- 
ently provoke an ill-feeling by insisting upon staying 
and obliging some one of them to leave? Although it 
was with regret that I would leave the regiment, 

Still, could I be such an ingrate, 
To turn their brave love into hate? 
No! I am justly proud to say 
My honor held me in its sway. 

I went to Col. Eg~an's quarters and handed in my 
resignation, and stated to him my reasons for so 
doing. At first my request to resign would not be lis- 
tened to, but I saying that I would not think of being 
so ungrateful as to be the means of causing any one 
of the old members to leave, and as each one of them 
had been promoted through their bravery, I was 
finally told by my Colonel that he would consider my 
act; but the number of names which had been called 
for had to be sent to General Headquarters that day; 
so I not giving way from the stand I had taken, my 
resignation was handed in with others, and in a few 
days our discharges came. It was on a Saturday, and 
I expected to have got mine that day, but it was held 
back from me; so not being relieved, I was obliged to 
remain, and was out with my company the next (Sun- 
day ; morning on inspection. This, however, was not 
a loathsome duty to me, for to command that company 
out, or under any circumstances, was a pleasure to me. 
The next day (Monday), early in the morning, Col. 
Egan sent for me, and after I had entered his tent he 
very proudly informed me that he had gained the pri- 
vilege of retaining me. I soon learned how he had 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 73 

accomplished his object, and as I saw that it would 
eventually cause the discharge of another, I would not 
concede to the measure, although the following induce- 
ments were advanced: — First, I was to remain in com- 
mand of my ("E") company; second, that a first lieu- 
tenant's commission would be procured for me imme- 
diately; and third, that I was to receive a captain's 
commission within a month's time. But all of this 
would not cause me to consent to an act which I feared 
would catise an ill-feeling between my late associates 
and myself. I assured Col. Egan that I would be but 
a short time out of the service. The Colonel, seeing 
that I was justified in my action, reluctantly and sor- 
rowfully handed me my discharge, and, as I liad but 
little time to spare, my departure was hurriedly. 

But as melancholy were we all 
As though returning from the toll 
Which had separated in this life 
Tried friends of a great worldly strife. 

And can it be said that we were not parting under 
such sad circumstances? for how soon many were taken 
from this world to "that from which none ever return!" 
There was a young lieutenant of the 40th who had 
always, after I had got my sword, greatly admired it, 
and often wanted me to exchange with him for his; but 
I could not be induced to make the exchange until 
leaving the regiment, and then, out of friendship, I 
traded with him; but the poor fellow was killed shortly 
after, while in a battle, and in all probability my sword 
(as it had been) went into the hands of the enemy, but 
I still retain his. 

On leaving the 40th 's camp I had but a short distance 
to go to where I boarded a train, which in a short time 
took me to Acquia Creek, where I arrived just in time 
to board a steamer for Washington, via the Potomac 
River. I arrived in Washington, D. C, early that 



74 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

evening-, and intended to have gone the next day over 
to Alexandria and looked for the Kith Virginia Regi- 
ment, where my friend Thomas O'Neill was, he having, 
through sickness, left the 87th New York, and after- 
wards accepted a first lieutenant's commission in the 
16th (Union) Regiment. On my way to a hotel I met 
one of the 16th's drummers, who informed me that the 
10th was about to be mustered out of the service, and 
that my friend O'Neill was stopping at the Franklin 
House, corner of D and 8th streets. I then went to the 
Franklin House, and stayed there until I received my 
pay, which was nine days after I had arrived in the city. 
The Army of the Potomac moving, a day or two after 
I had left, caused a delay in the copy of my discharge 
reaching the Paymaster-General's Office. After getting 
my pav I immediately returned home, 

To friends and village ever fair, 
For there was centred all my care. 
The charms and beauties new to see 
Allured me not from "Canarsie." 

I had not been home long, however, when I learned 
of a regiment that was— so I was informed — soon to go 
on gunboats and do duty on the York and James Rivers. 
This suited me; for, while I was in the "monlight" 
charge (May 3, 'Go) at Chancellorsville,Va., I had my left 
leg injured at the knee, and was still feeling its effects, 
and fearing that I could not endure too much marching 
in the future, I was pleased to have the opportunity of 
doing duty near my old army associates, and at the 
same time not be subjected to its long and fatiguing 
marches. Therefore, on July 4, 1863, I enlisted in 
Battery B, 13th New York Heavy Artillery, commanded 
by William Hoffman. After I had enlisted I was pri- 
vileged to remain at home as I pleased, having so 
recently received my discharge. During the forenoon 
of July 12th, 18G3, I was standing near my battery's 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. , 

recruiting office, which was at the junction of Walker 
and opposite Baxter street, New York City, and while 
standing" there I was asked by a loiterer whether I was 
not a soldier? (I was then in civilian dress). I answered 
that I was. "Well, if you can, you had better get out 
of the city; for I tell you, for your own good, that sol- 
diers will fare hard here in a day or two." Upon re- 
ceiving this informaton I naturally asked for proof of 
it, but he would only say that I had better act upon his 
advice. There was a fear already existing in the city 
that a riot would take place, and that soon. I remained 
at our recruiting office until the afternoon, when I re- 
ported to my Captain what I had heard. Towards 
evening there was enough of our battery placed in 
White Street Arsenal to man a battery of light artil- 
lery which was there. I was one of the number to go 
in the arsenal, and I remained there during all of the 
riot, which immediately began to rage throughout the 
city, and which resulted in the loss of many lives and 
a vast amount of property. At the arsenal we were 
not attacked, the rioters probably having too great a 
fear of our guns, which were well manned and always 
ready for action. A part of our battery, which were 
used in the streets, and as infantry, lost four men. 

After the riot was over we were taken to Staten Island , 
and from there to Fort Hamilton, which is on the Long 
Island side of New York Bay; from Fort Hamilton we 
embarked on board of the transport steamer " Reno," 
and were conveyed by her to Norfolk, Ya., at which 
place we arrived, I believe, in the first part of October, 
1803. After reaching Norfolk, we were taken out about 
five miles beyond Portsmouth, Va. (Portsmouth is just 
across the Elizabeth River from Norfolk); here we en- 
camped, and as the weather was good, we had ample 
time to prepare for the winter; so when cold weather 
set in we were snugly housed in Fort Cushing, and not 



76 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

until then did we know that only a part of our regiment 
were to go on gunboats, and the rest of us were to act 
as heavy artillery. Our duty now was to drill as heavy 
artillery, and infantry as well. Of building forts, doing 
guard and picket duty, and out on reconnoitreing ex- 
peditions we had plenty. The first reconnoitreing 
expedition that I was with, left Suffolk, Va., at five 
o'clock one morning, and through mud and rain march- 
ed all that day, reaching the Black Water (distance, 20 
miles,) near sunset. After driving the enemy from the 
opposite side of the river, we crossed, by being ferried 
across in a large scow that had been heroically got from 
the enemy's side by a young man from one of the gun 
boats who was with us (our expedition being made up 
from some of our regiment's gunboatmen), and who 
swam the river. When we had crossed we continued our 
march until we reached Murfries Station — distance 
about eight miles from the river — arriving at the Sta- 
tion at midnight. Just before reaching the Station we 
had a little skirmish with the enemy, and then, after 
driving them, went to work destroying property. We 
burnt 150 bales of cotton and three Station buildings, 
and then destroyed the railroad around the Station. 
Having completed our work of destruction, we took up 
our return march, and reached the Black Water about 
sunrise. Here we had but a short rest, when we con- 
tinued our return march, and reached Suffolk the next 
morning at five o'clock, greatly fatigued, having been 
forty-eight hours without sleep and hardly any>rest. 
As our clothing had got wet through early in our first 
day's march, and the roads continually very muddy, 
the march had been very trying on us. The enemy 
followed us very close while returning, but they did 
not attack us; but after we had got back in Suffolk they 
attacked and killed all but one man of a reserve picket 
post. I say they " killed all but one man;" if that man 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 77 

did live, I cannot imagine how he ever lived, for he 
had fourteen bullet-wounds, and was left for dead by 
the enemy, but was still living two or three days after. 
This reserve picket belonged to a cavalry regiment; 
the one who was out on post escaped by hiding in the 
woods. The cavalry regiment who were encamped at 
Suffolk, hearing the firing, went out, and the sight that 
met their eyes (their dead comrades) fairly maddened 
them; so they started for the Black Water, and I was 
told that they burnt every house on their way, but 
they did not "catch" the enemy. 

Afterwards I was out on another expedition towards 
the Black Water, our Lieut. -Colonel commanding, and 
I, after putting all the details together, forming them 
in one company, acted as First Sergeant. The follow- 
ing is a letter showing the Lieut. -Colonel's appreciation 
of my service while under him: 

Fort Cushing, near Portsmouth, Va., 
April 19th, 1865. 
Sergt. R. H. Ryder, 

Co. B, 13th N. Y. Artillery: 
I am requested by Lieut. -Col. J. J. Walsh, of this Regiment, to present 
you this as a mark of appreciation in which he holds you for the valuable 
services rendered, and soldierly deportment displayed, while under his 
command lately at Suffolk, Va. 

Respectfully, 

WM. HOFFMAN, 
Captain Battery B, 13th N. Y. Artillery. 

Our batteries being stationed in separate forts, and 
situated some distance apart, we would only be visited 
occasionally by our field officers, so we knew but very 
little of them ; still I had been told that Lieut. -Col. Walsh 
was a very strict officer, and there were but few who 
could get along with him. So when I was appointed by 
him to act as First Sergeant, I hardly knew what the 
result would be. For the first clay or two while at 



78 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

Suffolk, the Colonel would come to me in a great huny 
and tell me to get my company ready to march. I 
would call the company out and form them in line, and 
even at the first time I was particular to have my com- 
pany divided into platoons and sections, and properly 
counted off. About the time I would have my com- 
pany formed the Colonel would return; he, after giv- 
ing me the order, would go back to his quarters. I 
would then turn the company over to him, and report 
all present, as such I would find to be the case after 
calling the roll. The Colonel, after taking command, 
would be sure to see that the company was properly 
formed, by facing and wheeling them. After satisfy- 
ing himself that all was right, he would order me to 
dismiss the company, but hold them ready to march at 
a moment's notice. We soon learned that he was a 
strict officer; but when we returned from our expedi- 
tion, we all thought more of him than we ever did 
before. One pleasant trip I was on, and that was : I 
was sent with and in charge of a detail of men to For- 
tress Monroe, and there took charge of one hundred 
men whom I had to deliver to Gen. Graham's Head- 
quarters. We went up the James River to Bermuda 
Hundreds. It being night when we reached that place, 
we encamped for the night, and the next morning 
marched the rest of the way, which was probably about 
five miles. On reaching Gen. Graham's Headquarters, 
I turned the men over ; and after resting a short, 
time, returned with my detail. To and from Ber- 
muda Hundreds, we went by steamer, and it was a 
pleasant trip for us, especially the return, when we had 
no care upon us. I might say here, that it was before 
the surrender of Gen. Lcc that I was out with Col. 
Walsh, although I did not get the within letter from 
him till after, and that a great part of my duty was 
building redoubts or bridges; and it was for the latter 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BKARER. 79 

purpose that I had a detail out in a woods felling tim- 
ber when I was sent for by my Captain to come in 
with my detail and fire a salute. At first we could 
hardly believe the messenger who came out to us, 
saying that Lee had surrendered (April !», 1865); but 
when he had convinced us, I assure you it was with 
light hearts that we returned. On reaching our fort, 
it was but a moment's work for me to get my three 
20-pounder steel pieces ready, and with my Captain 
standing, with his watch in his hand, I gave the com- 
mand, "No. 1, Ready!" and by a signal from him, 
"Fire!" "Load, No. 2, Ready!" and so continued till 
the National Salute was fired. Ah! who can imagine 
with what pride we fired that salute! Great were the 
hardships we had endured to accomplish it, but still it 
was accomplished, though many of us were sadly feel- 
ing the effects of what we had endured. Why I was 
chosen to fire the salute I hardly know, for there were 
other sergeants in the battery fully as competent as I; 
but the honor conferred upon me at that time is still 
fresh in my memory and among my proudest thoughts 
of my war reminiscences. 

Shortly after the surrender of Gen. Lee, we were 
sent to Norfolk, Va., and there performed police duty, 
my Captain being chief of police most of the time, and 
I, all of the time while there, was in the old jail on 
Main street. The city being divided in three districts, 
all prisoners were sent to me. I had a lieutenant over 
me, but he would only call once a day, and then only 
for a short time; so about all of the duty was involved 
upon me. Our men did duty the same as all police 
do, they having their regular " beats" or patrol. Our 
company's quarters were near our regimental head- 
quarters, which were on Freemason street, a very plea- 
sant locality. 

After doing police duty for about two months, we 



80 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

were consolidated into the 6th New York Heavy Artil- 
lery, and taken just outside of Washington, D. C, my 
battery going into Fort Reno. We were not here long 
when a lieutenant and sergeant from one of our bat- 
teries, and myself from my battery, were placed on 
detached service and sent to Fort Sumner., to superin- 
tend the rebuilding of the fort, which was near the 
Potomac River. We had not been long on duty before 
the lieutenant and sergeant were both taken sick, and 
were obliged to leave. This left me alone; but my 
task was light; all I had to do was to run lines show- 
ing the height and angles of the work, and give in- 
structions to the officer in charge of details. At about 
ten o'clock, a.m., each day, I would generally be all 
through with my work, this being the first time that I 
was ever on detached service, or even away from my 
company, with the exception of being with some ex- 
pedition. Fortunately, I never lost a day's duty 
through sickness or any other cause, after my three 
months' service. 

On the 23rd day of August, 1865, we were mustered 
out of the service, while at Washington, D. C, but we 
did not reach our homes till the first part of Septem- 
ber, 1865, 

Having served from the first of night, 
Which tried our nation's will and might, 
And through its darkest midnight hours, 
Till that bright morn when all was ours; 

And now returned 

To home and all to me so dear, 
Proud and thankful of my career, 
Yet sad to see what war had wrought 
Among my friends who with me fought. 

Here I might add that I was mustered in as Second 
Sergeant of Battery B, 13th Heavy Artillery, and re- 
mained and was disehanred as such. 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 81 

The following- are the names of those who enlisted 
from "Canarsie," with the exception of eight who en- 
listed from another part of our town (Flatlands), and 
I am proud to say that I doubt whether the same 
number from any other part of our Union served with 
greater credit ; and, I will add, the number fully 
equalled the voting population of our village (Canarsie) 
at the outbreak of the Rebellion (1861): 

ROLL OF HONOR. 

Abrahams, Lawrence, 87th N. Y., served also in the 

Regular Army. 
Abrams, Maurice, 10th N. Y. Heavy Artillery, died 

at Point of Rocks, Va. 
Anderson, William, 20th N. Y., colored. 
Anderson, Cornelius, 20th N. Y., colored. 

Bennett, David, 90th N. Y. 

Bennett, Benjamin, 127th N. Y. 

Bogart, Charles W., 127th N. Y. 

Bogart, John H., 1st L. I., received three wounds at 

the battle of Fair Oaks, Va. 
Bogart, Janeway V., 127th N. Y. 
Bogart, John G., Navy, served on the "J. Hagar." 
Baldwin, George A., 127th N. Y. 
Baldwin, Nathaniel E., 127th N. Y., wounded near 

Beaufort, N. C. 
Bush, Peter, 56th N. Y. 
Banks, James H., 127th N. Y. 
Baisley, David, 56th N. Y. 
Beadle, Anthony P., a Captain in the 28th Brooklyn 

Militia. 
Biggs, William, 13th Brooklyn Militia. Leg broken 

by accident at Baltimore, Md. 
Biggs, John, 90th N. Y. 
Biggs, David, 127th N. Y. 
Berry, Jonathan G, 5th N. Y. 
Berry, William, 132d N. Y. 



82 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

Cooper, James T., 90th N. Y. 

Croley, Christopher, Navy, served on the "Lafayette." 

Coleman, Ferdinand F., Navy, served on the " Mound 

City." 
Coleman, James M. 

Coleman, Silas B., Navy, served on the "Tyler." 
Conk, John H., 127th N. Y. 

Denton, Daniel, 127th N. Y. 

Durland, William H., Scotch 900, died from disability. 

De Groot, George G., 127th N. Y., died from wound 

received at Devoe's Neck, S. C. 
Davis, Henry W., 90th N. Y., died from disabilitv, at 

Hilton Head, S. C. 
Denham, Hamilton W., 56th N. Y. 
Duly, Daniel, 158th N. Y. 
Duly, Nicholas, 127th N Y.,' drummer. 
Dougherty, Thomas, 87th N. Y. 
Davis, John, 5th N. Y. Heavy Artillery. 

Evans, George. 
Evans, John D. 
Evans, Charles W., 1st L. I. 

Ford, Andrew J., 127th N. Y. 

Ford, John, 17th N. Y. 

Ford, Nicholas, 1st L. I., killed at Fair Oaks, Va. The 

letter S, which members of Ford Post added, is 

incorrect. 
Ford, William S., 5Gth N. Y. 
Ferguson, Henry, 26th N. Y., colored. 
Ferguson, John, 20th N. Y., colored. 
Ferguson, Cornelius, 26th N. Y., colored. 
Fisher, Alex. J., 127th N. Y. 
Fisher, Edward S., 87th and 40th N. Y., died from 

wound received at the Wilderness, Va. 
Furman, James, 127th N. Y., died from disabilitv. 

Gallagher, John, 90th N. Y., wounded at Port Hudson, 
La. 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 83 

Gallagher, James E., 48th N. Y. 

Godfrey, Thomas, 90th N. Y. 

Gosline, Alfred, 87th N. Y., died from wound received 

at Fair Oaks, Ya. 
Gosline, Alfred C, 173rd N. Y. 
Gosline, Henry, 173rd N. Y. 
Genude, Patrick, 51st N. Y. 

Holmes, Cornelius, 26th N. Y., colored. 

Holmes, Daniel, 20th N. Y., colored. 

Holmes, Emanuel, 26th N. Y., colored, wounded. 

Jones, Owen L., 84th N. Y. 
Jepson, Charles A., 127th N. Y. 
Johnson, Anthony, 26th N. Y. colored. 
Johnson, Edward, 20th N. Y., colored. 
Johnson, George, Navy, served on the "Tallapoosa." 
Johnson, William, 127th N. Y. 

Johnson, Richard, 90th N. Y., wounded at Port Hud- 
son, La. 
Johnson, Isaac, 127th N. Y. 
Johnson, Cumney, 20th N. Y., colored. 

Kanaught, Patrick, 127th N. Y. 
Kowenhoven, Garrett. 

Lott, John B., 50th N. Y. 

Lumberyea, Philip, 13th Regiment and 90th N. Y. 

Morrison, Benjamin B., 127th N. Y. 

Morrison, William H., 90th N. Y., wounded at Port 

Hudson, La. 
Morrison, John A., served in the Regular Army. 
Mack, John, 90th N. Y. 
Mathews, Joseph, 1st Berdan's Sharpshooters and 

119th N. Y. Regiments. 
Mathews, Jacob, 90th and 127th N. Y. 
Mathews, William, 127th N. Y., wounded at Devoe's 

Neck. S. C. 



84 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

Mathews, Abraham S., 90th N. Y. 

Marsh, George G., 127th N. Y., Fife Major. 

Marsh, Isaac N., 127th N. Y., died from disability. 

Morrell, Joseph G., 28th Brooklyn, served in other 

regiments. 
Morrell, David S., served in the Regular Army. 
Murphy, William, 127th N. Y., wounded aceidently. 
McCrodden, Matthew, 48th N. Y. 
Monroe, John H., 127th N. Y. 
Miller, John, 90th N. Y. 

Nolan, John H., 90th N.Y., wounded at Port Hudson, La. 
Nolan, James, 87th and 40th N. Y. 
Newberry, William H., 127th N. Y. 
Norton, John, 7th N. H. 

O'Neill, Thomas, 13th Brooklyn, and First Lieutenant 
in the 16th Virginia (Union); wounded at Malvern 
Hill, Va., afterwards missing. 

Phillips, Charles, 47th N. Y. 
Potter, William, 20th N. Y., colored. 
Powell, Thomas, 20th N. Y., colored. 

Redgate, William, 139th N. Y. 
Raemer, John H., 8th Minn. 

Ryder, Richard H., 13th Brooklyn, 87th and 40th N.Y. 
Infantry; 13th and Gth N. Y. Heavy Artillery. 

Smith, George H., 20th N. Y., colored. 

Smith, Samuel, 20th N.Y., colored, died from disability. 

Skidmore, William H., 127th N. Y. 

Sharrot, Andrew J., 90th N. Y. 

Schenck, Stephen R., 13th Brooklyn. 

Schenck, Nicholas R., 13th Brooklyn, First Lieutenant, 

and afterwards First Lieutenant in the Navy. 
Storer, Hezekiah M., 87th N. Y. 

Smalley, Albert, 90th N. Y. 
Skidmore, Abraham W., 56th N. Y. 
Smart, William. 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. <S."> 

Stancliff, Henry, 119th N. Y. 
Serene, James, 127th N. Y., drummer. 
Stillwell, George, 14th Brooklyn. 
Schmeelk, Peter, 127th N. Y. 

Van Houten, Rulif, 90th N.Y., killed at Port Hudson.La. 

Van Houten, George W., 127th N. Y. 

Van Houten, Philip, 127th N. Y. 

Van Houten, John, 87th N. Y. 

Van Houten, John, 127th N. Y. 

Van Houten, Ralph, 90th N. Y. 

Van Houten, William B., 91st Penn. 

Van Houten, John H., 119th N. Y. 

Voris, Abraham, 48th N. Y. 

Ver Plank, Cornelius, 87th N. Y. ; served in other 

regiments. 
Varian, George, 127th N. Y. 

Warren, Edward, 127th N. Y. 

Wilson, James, 127th N. Y. 

Wilson, John, 17th N. Y., afterwards in Regular Army. 

Whittaker, James, 127th N. Y 

Willett, William, 12th N. Y. 

Warren, John, Navy, served on the "Clyde." 

Youngs, William H., 127th N. Y. 

N. B. — The Town of Flatlands is composed mostly 
of farmers, with the exception of the Village of Ca- 
narsie ; and in looking over the farmers, there were 
but a few that could be expected to battle for their 
country. Therefore, the few, about eight, who did 
enlist, are almost as many as could be expected; but 
the Village of Canarsie, I think, surpassed any in our 
Union ; its enlistment fully or more than equalled its 
voting population, and their rate of service was nearly 
or about three years. I will here make the following 
statement : Ford was buried on the field where he 



86 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

was killed ; also Van Houten ; Gosline, buried at 
Portsmouth, Va.; Marsh at Washington, D. C; Fisher 
at Arlington Cemetery, Va.; Abrams at Point of Rocks, 
Va. ; De Groot's remains were brought home; Davis 
was buried at Hiltonhead, S. C; Smith died in South 
Carolina, and was buried' there. 

If there is anyone more than another deserving of 
credit for his sympathy and liberality towards the 
soldiers of our town, it was our town's Supervisor, 
John L. Ryder. 



LIST OF BATTLES, Etc., FOR THE UNION. 

Battles marked thus * show that some one or more of my town par- 
ticipated therein. 

1861. 

■ 1. April 12 — Fort Sumter, in Charleston Harbor, 
fired upon by the Confederate General P. G. T. Beau- 
regard, who was in command of the Confederate forces 
there. 

2. April 14 — Fort Sumter evacuated by Major Robert 
Anderson, who commanded Federal forces. 

3. April 15 — President Abraham Lincoln called for 
Zo, 000 men. The State Militia responded immediately 
(three months' troops). 

4. April 18 — The burning and evacuation of Harper's 
Ferry, Va., by Lieutenant Jones (Federal). 

5. April 19 — 6th Mass. Regiment fired upon by a 
mob in Baltimore, Md., while on their way to Wash- 
ington, D. C, and lost, I believe, three killed and five 
wounded, but they were not prevented from continu- 
ing their journey. 

6. April 20 — About GOO Massachusetts troops were 
sent to Norfolk, Va., where they destroyed, at Gosport 
Navy Yard, a large quantity of government property, 
and then returned to Fortress Monroe, from whence 
they had been sent. 

7. April 26 — Governor Hicks was about to hold a 
special meeting of the State Legislature at Annapolis, 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 87 

Md., but as General Benjamin F. Butler threatened to 
arrest the whole body should they pass an ordinance 
of secession the meeting was held in Frederick, Md. 

8. May 3 — President Abraham Lincoln called for 
42,000 three years' men ; also ordered that the Regular 
Army be increased 22,000, and the Navy 18,000. 

!). May 10— Governor Proctor of Arkansas made an 
attack on the Federal Regulars at St. Louis, and was 
defeated, with a loss of about twenty men. 

10. May 14 — England issued a proclamation of neu- 
trality between the States in the L T nited States of 
America. 

11. May 24 — Colonel Ephraim Elmore Ellsworth, 
after taking down a rebel flag from the flagstaff of the 
Marshall house, in Alexandria, Va., was shot and 
killed, while descending the stairs, by the proprietor, 
James T. Jackson, who in turn was immediately shot 
and killed by one of Ellsworth's men (Brownell). 

12. May 26— General George B. McClellan, with his 
headquarters at Cincinnati, issued a proclamation 
calling upon all good and patriotic citizens to aid the 
Federal Government. 

13. June 1 — A company of cavalry lost two men at 
Fairfax Court House, Va. 

14. June 3 — Battle of Phillipi, Va. Federals lost but 
four, Confederates about one hundred. 

15. June 10— Battle of Big and Little Bethel, Va. 
A sad defeat of the Federals, with a loss of about fifty 
men and two good officers, viz. : Major Theodore 
Winthrop and Lieutenant John T. Greble, a young 
officer of the 2nd U. S. Artillery, and was the first of 
the Regular Army to fall. 

16. June 17 — A Union Regiment met the enemy in 
ambush at Vienna, Va., and were defeated with a loss 
of about twenty men. 

17. June 17 — Battle of Boonville, Mo. Federals vic- 
torious, with but little loss ; General Nathaniel Lyon 
commanding Department of Missouri. 

18. June 18 — Captain Cook (Federal) was surprised 
at Camp Cole, Mo., and routed with somewhat of a loss. 

19. July 4 — Battle of Carthage, Mo., Colonel Franz 



88 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

Zigel (afterward General) commanding Federal troops, 
lost but few; Confederates lost about four hundred. 

20. July 10.— Battle of Monroe, Mo. Federals lost 
six, Confederates about one hundred. 

21. July 10 — Battle of Scarytown, Va. Confederates 
victorious ; loss slight on both sides. 

22. July 12— Battle of Rich Mountain, Va. A decided 
victory for the Federals, and after the battle Colonel 
Pegram surrendered to General McClellan, with about 
six hundred and fifty men. 

23. July 13— Battle of Garrick Ford, Va. Here the 
Confederate General Garnett was killed; the Federals 
gained a great victory, with little loss. 

21. July 11 — General McClellan, being in command 
of the Western Virginia battles, and having been so 
decidedly victorious, said: "I sincerely believe the 
war is now over in this part of our Union." 

*25. July 21— First battle of Bull Run, Va. A sad 
defeat to the Federals, who lost in all about 2,700 men; 
enemies' loss about 1,600 men. 

26. July 22 — General McClellan given command of 
Federal forces, and then organized and commanded 
the Army of the Potomac. 

27. July 23 — The Confederates destroyed about three- 
fourths of a million dollars worth of property belong- 
ing to the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. 

28. August 2— Dry Spring, Mo. The Confederates 
completely routed, with a loss of about 150 men; Fed- 
eral loss ten men. 

29. August 5 — Athens, Mo. Federal loss, twenty- 
five men ; Confederate loss, one hundred men. 

30. August 10— Battle of Wilson's Creek, Mo.' Gen. 
Lyon killed. This battle was fought with great de- 
termination by Generals Lyon and Siegel, but after 
General Lyon was killed General Siegel was obliged 
to fall back. Federal loss in all about 1,300; Confed- 
erates about 3,000. 

31. August 14 — Marshal law proclaimed by General 
Fremont (Federal) in St. Louis. 

32. August 30 — General Fremont, in a proclamation, 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 89 

among other things, declared the slaves of disloyal 
citizens of the State of Missouri free. 

33. September 1 — About this time the Confederates 
added to their ranks about 3,000 Indians, but they 
proved of little use. 

.34-. September 11 — President Lincoln had the proc- 
lamation of General Fremont (August 30) in reference 
to the slaves so changed as to leave the question with 
the Courts or future legislatures. 

::: :5.->. October 21— Balls Bluff, Va., on the Potomac 
River. Among the noble dead was Colonel E. D. 
Baker (Federal). This battle was a sad defeat to the 
Federals, of which many were drowned while trying 
to swim the river or cross otherwise to Harrison's 
Island (an island in the Potomac). Federal loss, about 
one thousand in all; Confederates about three hundred 
in all. 

:3(i. October 21— Battle of Camp Wildcat, Ky. Fed- 
eral troops victorious. 

37. October 21 — Battle of Frederickton, Mo. Fed- 
eral troops victorious. 

38. October, 20— Battle of Springfield, Mo. Federal 
troops victorious. 

39. October 20 — Battle of Romney, Va. Federal 
troops victorious. 

4'!. December 3 — General J. W. Phelps reached and 
took command of Ship Island, in the Mississippi Sound, 
and immediately issued a proclamation. Among its 
contents was: That every slave State that had been 
admitted in the Union since the adoption of the Con- 
stitution was in disobedience to that instrument; 
therefore slavery was unlawful. 

41. December 13 — Battle of Camp Alleghaney, W.Va. 
Federals driven; loss light. 

42. December 1 J — Battle of Munfordsville, Ky. 
Among the killed was Lieutenant Sochs (Federal) and 
Colonel Terry (Confederate), otherwise loss light. 

43. December 20 — Federals sunk a number of old 
war vessels in Charleston Harbor, S. C. 

44. December 20 — Battle of Drainsville, Va. Federal 



90 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

loss about seventy-five men; that of the Confederates 
about three hundred. 

45. December 28 — Battle of Mount Zion. Union vic- 
tory; loss light. 

1862. 

40. January 1 — Bombardment of Fort Pickens, Fla., 
by Federals, but accomplished nothing. 

47. January 7 — General James A. Garfield routed 
the Confederates from Pointsville, Ky., loss light. 
General Garfield afterwards President of the United 
States. 

48. January 8 — Battle of Silver Creek, Mo., Major 
W. M. G. Torrence commanding Federal troops, which 
were victorious; loss light. 

49. January 10 — Battle of Middle Creek, Ky. Gen. 
Garfield (Federal) victorious. 

50. January 19 — Battle of Mill Spring, Ky., General 
Thomas (Federal) commanding. Confederates routed 
with a loss of about four hundred; Federal loss very 
light. 

51. February (j — Fort Henry, on the Tennessee River, 
captured, mainly by Federal Navy forces. 

*52. February 8— Capture of Roanoke Island, N. C, 
by General Burnside's (Federal) expedition. 

53. February 13 to 1(3 — Capture of Fort Donelson, 
situated on the Cumberland River, by Commodore 
Foote (Federal). 

54. February 14 — Battle of Blooming Gap, Va. A 
victory for the Union, but saddened by the death of 
the poet Fitz James O'Brien (Federal), killed in the 
battle. 

55. February 21 — Battle of Valivende, New Mexico. 
Loss about two hundred each; Captain McRae (Fed- 
eral) killed. 

56. February 25 — Nashville, Tenn., occupied by Fed- 
erals, the Confederates having evacuated. 

57. March 3— Columbus, Ky., occupied by Federal 
troops without opposition. 

58. March to 8 — Battle of Pea Ridge, Ark. Union 
troops victorious, but their loss was about 1,370 men; 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 91 

Confederate's loss about 2,000, and anions their killed 
were Generals Mcintosh and MeCullock. 

59. March 9 — Battle in Hampton Roads between the 
Confederate ironclad ram Merrimac and the Union 
" Monitor," the Monitor being' victorious, John S. 
Warden commanding' her. This was a great victory 
for the Union, and it was only by the timely arrival 
of the Monitor that the Union was saved from great 
loss, the Merrimac having destroyed two of our best 
vessels the day before, with many brave lives, and we 
(Federals) had nothing to check her destructive power 
till the Monitor came. 

60. March 12 — Jacksonville, Fla., occupied by Fed- 
eral troops without opposition. 

•61. March 14 — Battle of Newbern, N. C. Union 
troops victorious; still their loss was the greatest. 

62. March 14 — Capture of New Madrid, Mo., with 
little loss to Federals. The Confederates evacuated at 
midnight, during a heavy thunder storm, with consid- 
erable loss. 

63. March 22, -^i— Battle of Winchester, Va. The 
Confederates routed, with a loss of about six hundred 
killed and wounded and three hundred prisoners; 
Union loss about five hundred in all. General Shields 
being absent, sick, General Tyler commanded Federal 
troops. 

01. March 28 — Battle of Apache Canon, New Mexico. 
Union troops victorious. 

65. April 6, 7 — Battle of Pittsburg Landing, Tenn. 
The Confederates eventually driven, but the Federal 
loss was heavy, being in all about 11,360; that of the 
Confederates about 13,519. Among the Union killed 
was General Wallace. 

66. April 8 — Capture of Island No. lo, with consid- 
erable property and many prisoners, which were sur- 
rendered to Commodore Foote, who commanded Fed- 
eral forces. 

67. April 11 — Capture of Fort Pulaski, (la., by the 
Federals, who took many prisoners; loss on both sides 
otherwise light. 

US. April 16— Battle of Lee's Mills, Va. This battle 
was to ascertain the Confederates' strength, and to 



92 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

prevent them from building any more earthworks. 
The object was accomplished, although the Union 
troops lost quite heavily in doing so; Confederate loss 
also heavv. 

*69. April 18 to %6 — Capture of New Orleans, Com- 
modore D. G. Farragut commanding Federals. This 
was one of the greatest naval battles ever recorded. 
The details are lengthy and full- of science and hero- 
ism. The city was not reached and occupied till April 
29, when General Butler took command in the City 
and declared marshal law. 

70. April 20— Battle of South Mills, S. C, General 
Reno commanding Federal troops. Confederates 
routed; loss light. 

71. April 26— Capture of Fort Macon, N. C, by Fed- 
erals. There was great cheering when the Confed- 
erate flag was hauled down and the stars and stripes 
hoisted by the Union boys. Loss light, with the ex- 
ception of the Confederates, from whom the Federals 
took many prisoners. 

72. May 3 — Evacuation of Yorktown, Va., by the 
Confederate General Magruder. General McClellan 
had so far completed his fortifications of attack that 
he (Magruder) was fearful of its consequences. 

*73. May 5 — Battle of Williamsburg, Va., a Union 
victory. Loss in killed and wounded about equal, 
being in all about 5,600. Federals took a number of 
prisoners. Under cover of the night the Confederates 
fell back. 

74. May 7 — Battle of West Point, Va. Confederates 
routed after some sharp fighting, 

75. May 9 — Pensacola, Fla., evacuated by the Con- 
federates and occupied by General Arnold (Federal). 

7'!. May 10— Norfolk, Va., occupied by Federals, with 
but little opposition. 

77. May 11 — The ironclad Virginia (Merrimac) blown 
up and destroyed by the Confederates at Craney 
Island, Va., they fearing she would fall into the hands 
of the Federals. Thus ended the destroyer of our ship 
Cumberland (March 8, 1802) and many of her brave 
crew. 

*78. May 15— Drury's Bluff, Va. This battle was on 



THF. VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 93 

the James River, and between our gunboats and the 
Confederate land batteries. The river was so ob- 
structed that our gunboats could not properly work, 
so they were obliged to withdraw with somewhat of 
a loss. 

!'.». May 23 — Raid of Thomas Jonathan Jackson 
(Stonewall Jackson); the prefix "Stonewall" gained 
while at Bull Run, July 21, 1861. While standing on a 
hill where shot and shell were the thickest, some of 
his officers said: "Look, there stands Jackson like a 
stone wall," and it was believed that by Jackson's skill 
the battle was gained. This raid frustrated the plans 
of President Lincoln so that General McDowell, who 
was well up and on the north side of the York Rn r er, 
Va., was unable to assist McClellan. 

*80. May 28 — Battle of Hanover Court House, Va. 
A Union victory, and proved the ability of that grand 
old Army of the Potomac. 

81. May 31 — Occupation of Corinth by Union troops 
after a number of battles, which were attended with 
more or less loss of life and property on both sides. 

*82. May 31— Battle of Fair Oaks, Va. The Confed- 
erates made the attack, and had greatly the advantage; 
but were finally repulsed and driven back beyond the 
attacking point, which was about six and a half miles 
from Richmond, Va. Federal loss, in all, about 5,730; 
Confederate loss, in all, about 7,990. 

83. June -1 to — The occupation of, and hoisting of 
the stars and stripes in, the City of Memphis, Tenn. 
Here our naval forces gained a great victory over those 
of the Confederates, which took place the day before 
the occupation of the city. 

84. June 8 — Battle of Cross Keys, Va. The enemy 
routed; and it was only by the great skill of their com- 
mander, "Stonewall" Jackson, that any of them made 
their escape. Loss light on both sides. 

*85. June 25 — Commencement of the seven days' 
battle, from in front of Richmond, Va., to Harrison's 
Landing, Va., Oak Grove, Gains Mill, Allen Farm, 
Savage Station, Nelson Farm and Malvern Hill, arc 
all included. Federal loss: killed, 1,580-; wounded, 1,111; 
missing, 5,958; total, 15,241. Confederates killed, 2,820; 



94 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

wounded, 14,018; missing, 750; total. 17,588 (mortality 
from good authority). 

86. July 23 — General Halleck assumed command of 
all the Federal forces, with his headquarters at Wash- 
ington, D. C. 

87. August 4, 5 — Battle of Baton Rouge, La. The 
Confederates made the attack, and their commander, 
General Williams, with many others, were killed. The 
Federals repulsed them, with little loss; but on August 
16, by order of Gen. Butler, they evacuated the city. 

*88. August 7 — Battle of Cedar Mountain, Va. Union 
troops suffered defeat and great loss, General Pope 
commanding Federal troops. 

89. August 14 — By order of General Halleck, the 
Army of the Potomac left Harrison's Landing and fell 
back to the defences of Washington, after participating 
in the battle of Bull Run (second Bull Run). 

*90. August 29 to Sept. 1— Second battle of Bull Run 
and Chantilly, Va. General Pope, commanding Federal 
troops, was obliged to fall back to the defences of 
Arlington Heights, Va. August 30 was properly Bull 
Run battle; September 1, Chantilly. Still, from Au- 
gust 29th was commonly called second battle of Bull 
Run. Federals' total loss was about 7,800, and among 
its brave dead was General Phillip Kearney, killed at 
Chantilly, September 1st. Confederate loss much less 
than that of the Federals. 

91. August 30— Battle of Richmond, Ky. Union 
troops fell back, with little loss. 

92. September 1 — General McClellan placed in com- 
mand of the defences of Washington, D. C. 

93. September 6— Confederates surprised the garri- 
son at Washington, N. C, but were repulsed and driven 
back. 

1)4. September 14 — Battle of Munfordsville, Ky. 
Union troops fought bravely, but were obliged to fall 
back, and on the 16th surrendered to the Confeder- 
ates about 4,000 in all. 

*95. September 14: — Battle of South Mountain, Md., 
General McClellan commanding, General Pope having 
been relieved on September 7. The Confederates 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 95 

were steadily driven. The Federals lost about 1,500 
men, and among their killed was General Reno. The 
Confederates lost about 3,000, many of which were 
prisoners ; among their killed was General Garland. 

96. September 15 — Harpers Ferry, Va., surrendered 
to the Confederates, with about 11,500 men, by Col. D. 
T. Miles, who was killed just as he raised the white 
flag in token of his surrender. 

*97. September IT— Battle of Antictam, Md. From 
South Mountain (Sept. 14) the battle was almost con- 
tinuous, but here at Antietam was its greatest struggle, 
and ended in a decided victory for the Union arms, 
Generals McClellan and Lee the army commanders. 
Lee, with his (Confederate) army, was completely 
routed, with a loss of about, in all, 25,890; Federal loss, 
in all, about 12,400. Among the Federals' dead was 
General J. K. F. Mansfield, U. S. Army. 

98. September 19— Battle of Iuka, Miss., William S. 
Rosecrans commanding Federal troops, General Price 
the Confedrate troops. Each lost about Too men. Price, 
during the night, retreated. 

99. October 3 — Battle of Corinth, Miss. General 
Rosecrans gained a great victory ; his (Federal) loss, 
in all, about 2,350; Confederates, in all about 14,220. 
General P. A. Hackleman, U. S. Army, was killed. 

100. October 8 — Battle of Perry ville, Ky. General 
Buell, commanding Union troops, met with defeat; 
General Rosecrans then superseded him. 

101. October 10 — Confederate General Stuart's raid 
into Maryland and Pennsylvania, and after doing con- 
siderable damage to property, made good his escape 
on the 12th. 

102. October 22 — Battle of Pacatalico Bridge, S. C. 
Union troops failed in their attempt to destroy certain 
bridges, &c, and were obliged to fall back. Loss light. 

103. October 20 — General McClellan advanced his 
Army (of the Potomac) in Virginia, by order of Presi- 
dent Lincoln. 

104. November 7 — While at Warrenton, Va., General 
McClellan was relieved and General Burnside took 
command of the Army of the Potomac three days 
later (the 10th). 



9G THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

L05. November 1") — Army of the Potomac leaving; 
Warrenton, Va., General Bumside in command. 

100. November IT — A portion of the Army of the 
Potomac reached Falmouth, Va., near Fredericksburg, 
Va., the remainder of the army soon coming- up. 

*107. December 13 — Battle of Fredericksburg", Va. 
A sad defeat to the Union army. Federal loss in all 
about 12,300; Confederate loss about 5,200. General 
Burnside was obliged to return to the opposile side of 
the Rappahannock River. 

108. December 31 — Battle of Murfreesboro, Tenn. 
A victory for the Federals at the end, but Gen. Bragg, 
commanding the Confederate troops, came near de- 
stroying the whole of General Rosecrans' army at first. 
Federal loss, in all, about 14,000; that of the Confeder- 
ates about 11,000. 

1863. 

109. Jan. 4 — The campaign that had been planned 
and attempted against Vicksburg proved a failure, and 
was abandoned by the Federals. 

110. January 10 — Capture of Fort Hindman, Ark., 
which is situated on the Arkansas River, and which 
was a great loss to the Confederates. • 

111. January 26 — General Burnside again attempted 
to give battle at and near Fredericksburg, Va., but 
through heavy rains was, before crossing the Rappa- 
hannock River, obliged to abandon his project. 

112. February 3 — Battle of Fort Donelson, Tenn. 
The Confederates twice demanded the surrender of 
the fort; but Colonel A. C. Harding, although having 
but a few men, refused to comply with the demand. 
The gunboats coming to his (Harding's) rescue, the 
Confederates retreated. 

113. March 5 — Battle near Franklin, Tenn. Union 
troops defeated, with a loss of about five hundred men; 
Confederate loss light. 

114. March 10 — Near Covington, Tenn. Col. Grier- 
son routed Col. Richardson and his Confederate band. 

115. April 13— Battle of Irish Bend, La. The fight- 
ing was hard, but ended in a Union victory. 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 9T 

11G. May 1— General Stoneman's Cavalry raid starl- 
ing from Frederick&burg, Va., and taking a circuit of 
two hundred miles, destroying a large amount of 
property, they went very close to the City of Rich- 
mond, Va., but were finally obliged to return, a portion 
of the expedition was obliged to go down the penin- 
sula way. 

*117. May 1 to 5— Battle of Chancellorsville, Va., and 
Frederickburg, Va., General Hooker commanding the 
Army of the Potomac, General Burnside having re- 
signed. The Union army was defeated and obliged 
to return again back across the Rappahannock River. 
Federal loss at Chancellorsville, in all about 10,020 men; 
Confederate loss, in all about 12,280. Generals H. G. 
Berry and A. M. Whipple, U. S. Army, were among the 
killed; Confederate General "Stonewall" Jackson re- 
ceived wounds from which he died in a few days. 

118. Ended May 2 — Colonel B. H. Grierson's cavalry 
raid in Mississippi, of about six hundred miles through 
the enemy's country, and after destroying a large 
amount of Confederate property, went to Baton Rouge, 
La., May 2, having had an exciting raid for sixteen 
days, leaving La Grange, Tenn., April 1?. 

119. May 3— Capture of Grand Gulf, Miss., by Fed- 
eral naval fleet. A great victory for the Union. 

*120. May 3— Siege of Suffolk, Va., by Confederate 
General Longstreet. After loosing many men he fell 
back, and left the Union troops still in possession. 

121. May G — Admiral Porter took command of Alex- 
andria, and General Banks established his headquar- 
ters there. This city is situated on the Red River. 
On reaching this point the two forces accomplished 
much for the Union. 

122. May 12— Battle at Raymond, Miss. The Con- 
federates routed, with a loss of about five hundred 
men; Federal loss about three hundred men. 

123. May 14 — Capture of Jackson, Miss., by Federal 
troops; the city was, however, immediately evacuated. 
There was but little opposition to the capture, and our 
troops did not care to hold it. 

124. May 10— Battle of Baker's Creek, Miss. This 
battle was severe, but the Confederates were finally 



98 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

routed with a loss of about 5,600 men. It was here 
that General Lloyd Tilghman, an aged officer in the 
Confederate service, was killed while sighting a gun 
by a shell from one of the Union guns. Federal loss 
about 3,000. 

125. May 17— Battle of Big Black Bridge, Miss. The 
battle was short, and the Confederates were routed; 
loss light. 

126. May 18 — Capture of Hains Bluff, Miss., by D. D. 
Porter's fleet. This was a strong position, but was 
easily taken, as General Grant was getting near with 
his land forces. 

127. May 22 — Germ Swamp. Here the Confederates 
were beaten, but the Federals met with a sad loss in 
the death of Colonel Jones. 

*128. May 27 — Attack upon Port Hudson, La., by the 
Federals, but they were unsuccessful. 

129. June 14 — General Hooker, finding that General 
Lee (Confederate) was moving his army, started to 
intercept him, and, by forced marches, was soon back 
to the Potomac, where he had hoped to have prevented 
the Confederates from getting into Maryland, but was 
too late. 

*130. June 14 — Battle at Winchester, Va., a sad de- 
feat to the Federals. 

131. June 14 — Battle and evacuation of Martinsburg, 
Va. General Tyler, after repulsing tne Confederates, 
seeing that he could not hold out, retreated across the 
Potomac. 

*132. June 14 — Union troops again unsuccessful in 
an attack upon Port Hudson, La. 

133. July 1— Battle of Carlisle, Penn. Fitz Hugh 
Lee (son of the commanding General, Robert E. Lee) 
commanding, was unable to drive General Smith 
(Federal) from his position. General Lee then fell 
back; loss light. 

•134 July 1 to 3— Battle of Gettysburg, Penn. This 
was a hard fought battle, General Mead commanding 
Federal troops, General Hooker having been relieved. 
Federal loss, in all, about 23,180; Confederate loss, in 
all, about 31,020. Generals John F. Reynolds, S. H. 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 99 

Wood, Rook and E. F. Farnsworth, U. S. Army, were 
killed, and Generals Hancock, Sickles, Barlow, Graham 
and Warren were wounded. The Confederates were 
finally routed and driven into Virginia. 

135. July 3 — Siege of Charleston, S. C, commenced. 
Admiral Foote dying (disability), Admiral Dahlgren 
took command of the Federal fleet July 6. 

*136. July 4 — Vicksburg, Miss., surrendered to Gen. 
Grant I Federal), after a hard-fought battle. Federal 
loss, in all, about 4,530; Confederates' loss (many sur- 
rendering), in all, 31,270. About this time Commodore 
Porter (Federal) destroyed a large amount of Confed- 
erate property on the Yazoo River. 

137. July 4 — Battle of Helena, Ark. Here the Con- 
federates fought like demons, but were defeated and 
routed, with considerable loss. 

138. July 9 — Port Hudson, La., surrendered by Gen. 
Andrews (Confederate) to General Banks (Federal). 
A large number of Confederates were surrendered with 
the garrison. 

*139. July 13 — Great riot in New York City, caused 
by the drafting of men for the Union Army. There 
was a large amount of property destroyed and a num- 
ber of lives lost, but the rioters were subdued after a 
few days. 

140. July 20 — General John Morgan (Confederate), 
after breaking jail and making his escape from Ohio, 
and after raiding through Indiana, Kentucky and Ohio, 
was, with a number of his men, shot and killed while 
at Greenville, East Tennessee. 

*141. September 19 to 23 — Battle of Chickamauga, 
Ga., a hard-fought battle. Gen. Thomas was obliged 
to fall back with his (Federal) forces. Union loss, in 
all, 15,850; Confederate loss, 17,800. General W. H. 
Lyttle, U. S. Army, killed. 

*142. November 24 — Battle of Lookout Mountain, 
Tenn. Federals victorious; their loss, in all, about 
six thousand ; Confederates' loss, in all, about ten 
thousand. Hooker (Federal) and Bragg (Confederate) 
commanding Generals. 



100 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

143. November 25— Battle of Mission Ridge, Tenn. 
Not much of a Union victory, but gave General Grant 
great advantages. * 

144. November 28 — Battle of Ringgold, Ga. Here 
both lost heavily; the Confederates were finally driven. 

145. December 6 — General Longstreet (Confederate) 
abandoned the siege of Knoxville, Tenn., after an un- 
successful attempt to carry the works, with consider- 
able loss. Federal loss light. 

1864 

140. January 22 — Capture of Fort Fisher and Wil- 
mington, N. C, by Porter, commanding Federal naval 
forces, and Terry commanding the land forces. It 
was a hard-fought battle, with considerable loss, but 
ended in a Union victory. 

147. February 20 — Battle of Olustee, Fla. General 
Truman Seymour defeated by Confederate General 
Finnegan, who was in ambush. Federal loss about 
1,500 ; Confederates, about TOO. vSeymour then fell 
back to Jacksonville. 

148. February 22 — Tunnel Hill, Ga., captured and 
the Confederates routed. Loss light. 

14!). February 25 — Rockyface Ridge, Ga. Union 
troops, finding the force too great, fell back. Loss light. 

150. March 5 — General Kilpatrick's daring raid, end- 
ing March 5, through Virginia, was somewhat success- 
ful, but among its loss in killed was Col. Dahlgren. 

151. March 13 — Gen. U. S. Grant made Commander- 
in-Chief of the Federal forces, and made his head- 
quarters with the Army of the Potomac in Virginia. 

152. March 25 — Union City captured by the Confed- 
erates, Federals offering but little resistence. 

L53. March 20— Paducah, Ky. Here the Confed- 
erates made a desperate assault under command of 
General Forrest, who ordered Colonel Hicks to sur- 
render the Fort "immediately," or he would show no 
quarter. Colonel Hicks, with but a small force to 
resist an attack, replied: " I will not surrender." Gen. 
A. P. Thompson (Confederate), while leading the 
charge against the fort, was killed. The Federal gun- 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 101 

boats coming- to Colonel Hicks' rescue, the Confeder- 
ates fled, with considerable loss. 

154. April 8 — Battle of Sabine Crossroads, Miss. 
General Banks met with somewhat of a defeat. Loss 
light. 

155. April 9 — Battle of Pleasant Hill, La., a hard- 
contested battle, but ending in the defeat of the Con- 
federates. Still, General Banks continued his retreat 
the next day, leaving his dead and wounded on the 
field. 

156. April 12 — Capture of Fort Pillow, Tenn. Con- 
federate General Forrest demanded the surrender of 
the fort, and, on being refused, made such a deter- 
mined charge that he carried everything before him; 
and it was said that Major Bradford (Federal) and 
many of his men were shot in cold blood; also, that 
the sick in the place were treated brutally by the Con- 
federates. 

157. April 19 — Capture of Plymouth N. C, by the 
Confederates. The Federal loss was severe, both in 
naval armament and men. 

*158. May 5 to 7— Battle of Wilderness, Va., Grant 
commanding the Federal Army, Lee the Confederates. 
This was a severe battle, and can be called a "draw." 
Federal loss: killed, 5,590; wounded, 21,470; missing, 
10,(170; total, 37,730. Confederates killed, 2,000; wound- 
ed, 6,005; missing, 3,395; total, 11,400. Generals James 
S. Wadsworth, A. Hays and A. S. Webb, U. S. Army, 
were killed. 

*159. May 8 to 21 — Battle of Spottsylvania, Va., 
Grant and Lee commanders. Again a " draw." Fed- 
eral loss: killed, 4,170; wounded, 19,688; missing, 2,577; 
total, 20,441. Confederates killed, 1,000 ; wounded, 
5,010; missing, 2,990; total, 9,000. Generals J. Sedg- 
wick, J. C. Rice, J. J. Owens and T. G. Stevenson, U. S, 
Army, were killed.. 

160. May 8. — General Mead issued a praiseworthy 
address to his (Federal) command. 

161. May 11 — General Sheridan got in the rear of 
General Stuart (Confederate), at Yellow Tavern, Va., 



102 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

and gave battle. The Confederates lost heavily, and 
General Stuart soon died from a wound received here. 

162. May 12 — Battle of Fort Darling, Va. This 
battle, or series of battles, continued till May 16th, and 
ended by the Union troops falling back to Burmuda 
Hundreds; Gen. Butler commanding Federal troops. 

163. May 13 — Alexandria, on the Red River, evacu- 
ated by the Federals, and their fleet taken to the mouth 
of the Red River. 

164. May 15 — New Market, in the Shenandoah Val- 
ley, Va. General Sigel met with a sad defeat and 
much loss. He was immediately superseded. The 
Confederate loss light. 

165. May 19 — Capture of Rome, Ga., by Jefferson 
C. Davis (Federal), with considerable Confederate 
property. 

*166. June 1— Battle of Cold Harbor (Cool Arbor), 
Va. General Lee appeared to divine General Grant's 
plans, and at every point met him with strong fortifi- 
cations, which were greatly thinning Grant's ranks. 
This battle, like those of the Wilderness and Spottsyl- 
vania, was fought with great loss to the brave Union 
soldiers. General Grant's loss now was (during the 
last few battles) all of 60,000 men; but fortunately for 
the Union there were men enough in the North to 
replenish Grant's fast falling army, while the South 
had no reserve to draw from, which was also fortunate 
for us; but the enemy (Confederates), always acting 
on the defensive lost but few men, compared with that 
of the Federals. General Grant again withdrew and 
took another route. 

167. June 5 — Battle of Piedmont, Va., Gen. Hunter 
commanding. Sigel's old army gained a victory over 
the Confederates. 

168. June 8 — Siege of Petersburg, Va., commenced; 
Generals Grant and Lee army commanders. 

169. June 14 — Battle of Kenesaw Mountain, Ga. The 
Confederates, after being driven from one position to 
another by General Sherman, made a stand here. 
General Sherman, seeing a cluster of the Confederates 
standing together on a hill, ordered them to be fired 
upon. General Polk, being among them, was killed 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 103 

instantly; the next day, without giving much of a 
fight, the Confederates fell back. 

170. June 15— At this date, it has been said by some, 
the siege of Petersburg, Va., properly began, and did 
not end till its evacuation by the Confederates, April 3, 
1865. Richmond, Va., was evacuated about the same 
time by the Confederates. 

171. June 19 — Sinking of the Confederate steamship 
Alabama by the U. S. sloop-of-war Kearsarge. The 
Alabama was in reality an English vessel, having been 
built and manned in England, with the exception of 
her commander and probably some of her other offi- 
cers. Semmes, her commander, was a southerner, and 
had been one of our naval officers; but at the outbreak 
of the rebellion, or shortly after, took to destroying 
the Union merchant vessels. After doing a vast 
amount of damage, he was so hemmed in that he was 
obliged to leave his vessel in a harbor. The Alabama 
then was built, and he continued his work of destruc- 
tion with greater success and energy. Finally he was 
obliged to give battle, which hitherto he had kept clear 
of. The Alabama was sunk, after a short battle, in 
the Harbor of Cherbourg, France. After she was sunk 
many of her crew, including her commander, were 
picked up by the private yacht Deerhound, which was 
owned and sailed by John Lancaster, an Englishman, 
and who took those that he picked up to Cowes, Captain 
Winslow, commander of the Kearsarge, thinking that 
the private yacht was only lending friendly aid, and 
not saving the "notorious Semmes" from punishment 
which he so justly deserved. 

*1?2. June 22 — Weldon Railroad, near Petersburg, 
Va. Union troops defeated, and obliged to fall back. 

173. June 22 to 29 — An expedition to destroy rail- 
roads, &c, in the vicinity of Petersburg, Va„ was very 
successful until General Kouts met the Confederates, 
at Reams Station, where he supposed the Federals had 
possession; he was routed, with considerable loss, the 
enemy losing but few. 

174. June 24 — Battle of Little Kenesaw, Ga.. Gen. 
Sherman held his position; still, his loss was much 
greater than that of the Confederates. 



104 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

*175. June 30 — Petersburg mine explosion. This 
mine ran from the Federal line to a point under a 
principal fort of the Confederates, and was accom- 
plished, with great secrecy, by General Burnside's men. 
There were used four tons of powder, which was 
placed in sections under the fort and lit by fuse. 
The mine accomplished, so far as blowing up the fort, 
all that was expected of it, but the Confederates, soon 
recovering from the consternation caused by the ex- 
plosion, met a division of General Burnside's men and 
a division of colored troops, who charged to capture 
Cemetery Hill, which commanded the City of Peters- 
burg, and defeated them with a loss of about 4,000 
men. General Burnside, being somewhat blamed for 
not acting with more promptness after the explosion, 
was relieved by his own request, and General J. D. 
Parke was given his (Burnside's) corps (9th). It has 
been stated that about 40!) men who garrisoned the 
Confederate fort were blown to atoms when the fort 
was blown up. Lieutenant-Colonel Pleasant, of the 
48th Pennsylvania Regiment, did the engineering of 
the mine. 

17f). July 3 — Kenesaw taken, having been evacuated 
by the Confederates, who suffered great loss on being 
pursued by General Sherman. 

177. July 9 — General Wallace met the Confederates 
on the Monocacy, Md., near the railroad crossing, and 
was defeated with a loss of about 2,000 men, but it 
checked the Confederates' onward march, which was 
fortunate for the Federals. 

178. July 9 to 13— General Jubal Early (Confederate), 
following General Wallace through Maryland towards 
Baltimore, Md., destroyed a great deal of property and 
captured General Franklin, who was on a railroad 
train in citizen's dress, but he (Franklin) made his 
escape afterwards through the weariness of the Con- 
federate soldiers. General Early turned his raid to- 
wards Washington, D. C, but by Federal troops being 
mustered was checked and driven back into Virginia. 

179. July 20— Battle before Atlanta, Ga. Here the 
loss on both sides was severe, and General J. B. Mc- 
Pherson (Federal) was killed. This siege continued 
till late in August, when the Federals withdrew. 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 105 

180. July 21 — General Stoneman, while out on a 
cavalry expedition in Georgia, was met, overpowered, 
and taken prisoner with many of his (Federal) com- 
mand. A part of General Stoneman's command cut 
their way through the Confederate line and made their 
escape. 

181. August 5 to 23 — Capture of Forts Morgan and 
Powell, a great Union victory, in Mobile Bay, David 
G. Farragut (Federal) commanding. It was here that 
the Confederate ram Tennessee was obliged to surren- 
der; and when the white flag was hoisted, Captain 
Heywood, one of the rescued of the Cumberland, sunk 
March 9, '61, was sent on board the Tennessee to arrange 
the surrender, and among those to surrender was 
Admiral Buchanan, the commander of the Merrimac 
when she sunk the Cumberland in Hampton Roads, Va., 
March 9, '61. Buchanan had one of his legs broken 
when he surrendered. 

182. August 18 — Capture of Reams Station, Va., by 
Federal troops, but they lost about 300 men in doing so; 
Confederate loss light. 

183. August 19 — The Confederates made an attack on 
Reams Station, Va., with such a determined onslaught 
that at one time the Federals were obliged to fire with 
their batteries upon their own men, in order to save 
themselves. The Confederates were finally checked, 
and the Union troops remained in possession of the 
station, but the Union loss was greater than that of the 
Confederates. 

184. August 21 — General Early (Confederate) defeat- 
ed General Sheridan, at Summit Point, Va. ; loss light. 

185. August 28 — Battle of Reams Station, Va., fought 
with great determination. Union loss, about 1,200 
men; Confederate loss much greater. The Confederates 
were finally obliged to fall back. 

*180. September 2 — General Sherman takes posses- 
sion of Atlanta, Ga., after a series of hard-fought bat- 
tles, the Confederates finally being obliged to evacuate 
after losing many men. This was a great victory for 
General Sherman and the Union. 

187. September 19 — Battle of Opequan Creek, Va. 
General Sheridan (Federal) routed General Early (Con- 
federate) with great loss. 



106 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

1SS. September 21 — Fisher's Hill, Va. Sheridan 
routed Early (Confederate) with quite a loss. 

189. September 28— Battle of Chapin's Bluff, Va. 
This was a bold undertaking to capture Richmond, Va., 
by the Federals, but they were obliged to fall back 
with considerable loss. 

190. October 5 — Battle of Allatoona, Ga. This was 
a short but destructive battle to the Confederates. 

191. October 7 — The Confederates made an attack 
upon General Grant's right flank, in front of Peters- 
burg, Va., but were repulsed with considerable loss; 
General Gregg was among their- (Confederate) killed. 

192. October 9 — Near Strasburg, Va., General Sheri- 
dan routed General Early (Confederate) with consid- 
erable loss. 

193. October 16 — Cedar Creek, Va. Confederate 
General Early made an attack upon General Sheridan's 
troops, but was checked and routed. 

194. October 19— Battle of Cedar Creek, Va. Here 
at first the Confederates were victorious, and caused 
quite a loss to the Federals; but General Sheridan, who 
had been away from . his command, arriving on the 
held, like magic turned the defeat into a victory, rout- 
ing the Confederates with great loss. Federal loss, 
about 17,100; Confederates', about 23,000, about one- 
half of which were prisoners. To this place was 
Sheridan's great ride. 

*195. October 27— Battle of Hatche's Run, Va. The 
Confederates were simply driven inside of their works 
by the Federals. 

196. November 13 — Battle of Morristown, Tenn. 
General Gillem defeated by General Breckenridge 
(Confederate), with considerable loss. 

*197. November 15 — General Sherman begins his 
march from "Atlanta to the sea," after defeating and 
misleading the Confederate commanders. 

•198. November 15 to 21 — General Sherman's march 
from Atlanta, Ga., to Savannah, Ga. Capture of Fort 
McAlister, Ga., Dec. 14; capture of Savannah. Dec. 21. 
General Sherman's march was not attended with any 
great hard fighting, but his object was attained — that 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 105 

of destroying- railroads, &c, which disabled the Con- 
federates' facilities for continuing the war. Too much 
credit cannot be given General Sherman and his noble 
army, who marched 300 miles in 2T days. Federal loss, 
760 men. 

199. November 30— Battle of Franklin, Tenn. The 
Confederates made the attack, but were repulsed with 
heavy loss. 

200. December 12 — General Stoneman's raid (having 
been exchanged) in Western Virginia. He took many 
prisoners and destroyed a large amount of Confederate 
property. 

201. December 15— Battle of Nashville, Tenn. The 
Confederates made a hard fight, but were completely 
routed with heavy loss. 

. 1865. 

*202, February 1 to March 23 — General Sherman 
again on the march, leaving Savannah, Ga., February 1, 
and reaching Goldsboro, N. C, March 23. This march 
was attended with more or less fighting, but not to 
such an extent as to materially impede his steady on- 
ward march. On reaching Goldsboro, General Sherman 
formed a junction with Generals Schofield and Terry, 
who had arrived two days before from Wilmington; 
General Sherman had now about 90,000 men, and was 
in a position to prevent General Lee from retreating 
southward. 

*203. February 5 to ? — Hatche's Run, Va., taken, but 
not till they had almost given the Federal troops a sad 
defeat. This was a very advantageous position for 
the Confederates, and they felt their loss sorely. Loss 
somewhat heavy on both sides. 

204. February 2] — -General Sheridan routed General 
Early (Confederate) from Stanton, Va., and captured 
many of his command. 

205. February 2T to March 19— General Sheridan's 
expedition through the Shenandoah Valley, Va., was 
very successful, and met with but little opposition 
from the Confederates. 

20(J. March ,4 to 12 — General Newton's expedition 
(Federal) from Key West to St. Mark's, Fla., was very 
successful. 



108 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

207. March 20 to April 13 — General Stoneman's ex- 
pedition (Federal) through North Carolina successful, 
meeting - with but little opposition. 

208. March 22 to April 20 — General Wilson's expedi- 
tion in Alabama successful. General Wilson, learning 
that Jefferson Davis, Confederate President, was trying 
to make his escape from the United States, sent troops 
in pursuit, and on May 11 captured him and his wife, 
also some of his colleagues, who were also trying to 
escape. Jefferson Davis was elected President of the 
Confederacy, February 8, 1861, and served as such until 
he was captured. 

209. March 31 — General Warren met with defeat and 
somewhat of a loss in trying to get possession of White 
Oak Road, Va. The Confederates were too strongly 
posted. 

210. April 1 to 3 — General Sheridan attacked the 
Confederates at Five Forks, Va., and routed them from 
a strong position, and kept them on the retreat from 
the 1st to the 3rd, when they at last were obliged to 
succumb to the stars and stripes, from which they had 
so unwittingly strayed. 

*211. April 9 — The surrender of Robert E. Lee and 
his Confederate Army to U. S. Grant. After the Con- 
federates had fallen back from Petersburg, Va., they 
were closely followed by General Grant, who took 
many prisoners, and among them some of General 
Lee's best officers. General Grant, seeing that Lee 
could hold out but a short time, petitioned him to sur- 
render. General Lee at first treated the petition with 
some indifference, but knowing that further resistance 
was only to sacrifice still more brave lives for nought, 
accepted General Grant's terms of surrender, which 
were that all officers give their own parole not to take 
up arms against the United States Government until 
properly exchanged; the men (rank and file) to be 
paroled by their officers, and under the same condi- 
tions, and all to go to their homes, and there remain 
undisturbed by the United States Government so long 
as they abided by their paroles and the laws of their 
States or Territories; their arms, &c, to be given up, 
there on the field, to the United States authorities. 
The surrender took place about 20 miles outside of 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 109 

Petersburg, Va., General Lee's headquarters being 
near Amelia Courthouse, Va. I might say here that 
the remaining Confederate armies surrendered under 
the same conditions as did that of General Lee. 

*212. April 12 to May 4 — Capture of Mobile. The 
Confederates, knowing that further resistance and 
shedding of blood was useless, surrendered their fleet 
as well as Mobile, with but little resistance. 

213. April 14 — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, 
President of the United States, by the tragedian John 
Wilkes Booth, an American citizen, but a sympathizer 
with the Confederates, while at Ford's Theatre, in 
Washington, D. C, where " Our American Cousin" was 
to have been played by Miss Laura Keene and her 
company. Booth made his escape, by a fleet horse 
that he had in readiness outside the theatre, into Vir- 
ginia, where he was overtaken, shot and killed by 
" Boston Corbet," who was one of a company of cavalry 
sent in pursuit. Booth had broken one of his legs 
while jumping from the theatre box, where he shot 
the President, to the stage, otherwise he probably 
would have made good his escape, and finally reached 
some foreign country where he never would have been 
detected. Thus ended the life of Abraham Lincoln, 
one of America's truest patriots, as I might say, just as 
the last clouds of a sad and hard-contested rebellion 
were leaving bright our horizon, for the arms that had 
been raised against our beloved country were not yet 
all laid aside. 

214. April 20 — Confederate General Johnson surren- 
dered to General Sherman, with his army, at Greens- 
boro, N. C. 

215. May 4 — Confederate General Taylor surrender- 
ed, with all the Confederate forces East of the 
Mississippi, to General Canby. 

210. May 20 — General Kirby Smith surrendered, with 
all of the Confederate forces West of the Mississippi, 
to General Canby. 

Thus ended one of the greatest civil wars ever 
known to civilization, and may our country never be 



110 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

subjected to another, but may peace and prosperity 
always prevail among" us, is my prayer. 

A nation reared by labor of 

Men who tilled her soil, 

Ever for her great future good 

Rightly did they toil. 

Independence which they gained 

Could we now let go? 

Ah! hear the answer: " No! no! no!" 



NOTES. 



. 1. John Brown, who had been preaching to the slaves 
in the South for some time to rise and free themselves 
from their bondage, was, after a hard struggle, cap- 
tured at Harper's Ferry, Va., October 18, and after 
being tried was hanged at Charleston, West Virginia, 
December 2, 1859. 

2. The vStar of the West, a merchant vessel, sailed 
from New York, January 5, 1861, with reinforcements 
for Anderson, and was fired upon in Charleston Har- 
bor, vS. C, on the 9th. She then returned, without 
communicating with Anderson. This was the first 
shot fired upon our flag. 

'.). January, 18(51, upon the refusal of Captain Bush- 
wood to bring fhe U. S. cutter "Robert McClelland" 
from New Orleans to New York, John A. Dix, then 
Secretary of the Treasury, telegraphed for his arrest, 
and for the lieutenant to take command, and added 
that "If any man attempt to haul down the American 
flag, shoot him on the spot." 

-1. February 4, 1801, Jefferson Davis, of Mississippi, 
and Alex. H. Stephens, of Georgia, were chosen Presi- 
dent and Vice-President of the Confederate States, to 
act until a general election, which was held in Novem- 
ber, L861, when Davis and Stephens were elected for 
the term of six years. Jefferson Davis graduated from 
West Point in 1828, and served in the U. S. service 
until 183."), when he resigned, and became a cotton 
planter in Mississippi, and afterwards became a politi- 
cian. At Mexico he was Colonel of the First Miss. 
Riflemen, and won honors. He resigned his position 
as L T . S. Senator, January 21, 1861, to take part in the 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-REARER. Ill 

secession of his State. Stephens was a lawyer and 
somewhat of a politician. 

5. General Twiggs, in command of the Department 
of Texas, surrendered his whole command, with all of 
the Government property, to the Confederates. He 
was immediately afterwards dismissed from the U. S. 
service, March 1st, 1861. He then entered the Con- 
federate service. 

tj. Lieut. Adam Slemmer took possession of Fort 
Pickens, West end of the Santa Rosa Island, January. 
1861; and this fort never fell into the hands of the 
Confederates. 

T. P. T. G. Beauregard was Major of Engineers in 
the U. S. service, but when his State, Louisiana, 
seceded, he joined the Confederate service. 

8. Edmund Ruffin, an old Virginia gentleman, it is 
said, fired the first hostile shot on Fort Sumter. In 1865, 
when there was no hope of the South gaining their in- 
dependence, he committed suicide by snooting himself, 
saying he could not survive the Confederacy. He was 
then about 70 years of age. 

9. Gen. Robert E. Lee resigned his commission April 
20, 1861, as Lieut. -Col. U. S. Army. 

10. Joseph E. Johnson resigned about April 20, 186.1. 
He was a Brigadier-Gen. in the U. S. Army. 

11. J. B. Magruder resigned his commission in the 
U. S. service when his State, Virginia, seceded. 

12. The Havelock gets its name from Sir Henry 
Havelock, who used them in a rebellion in India. 

13. There were no Union soldiers sent into Virginia 
until that State seceded, May 23, 1861, but before dawn 
of the next day (24th) there were 15,000 troops sent 
from Washington to the opposite side of the River 
Potomac. 

14. The Potomac, from Washington, D. C, to the 
Chesapeake Bay, is about 125 miles. 

15. Old Point Comfort is where Fortress Monroe now 
stands, and was so named because the first colonies 
from England landed there. It was there, also, that 
the first slaves of this country were landed and sold 
(20 in number) from a Dutch vessel, in the year 1619. 



112 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

16. May, 1861, General George B. McClellan made 
Major-General in the Regular (U. S.) Army, and given 
command of the Department of Ohio. 

17. Robert S. Garnet had been an officer in the U. S. 
Army. He was'killed, while serving in the Confederate 
Army, July 13, 1861, at a ford on Little Cheat River. 

18. General Beauregard first, and then Joseph E. 
Johnston, commanded the Confederate Army at the 
first Bull Run battle. General Irvin McDowell com- 
manded the Federal troops. 

19. General Leonidas Polk was a graduate of West 
Point, but after graduating adopted the clerical profes- 
sion, which he continued till the outbreak of the rebel- 
lion, when he accepted a generalship in the Confederate 
service. 

20. Ulysses S. Grant graduated from West Point 
and served with credit in the Mexican war. In 1854 
he resigned, but at the outbreak of the rebellion he 
entered the volunteer service as a captain. On the 
17th of June, 1861, he was commissioned Colonel of the 
21st Illinois Regiment, and so he kept rising till he 
reached the highest command. 

21. Confederate General Thomas Jefferson Jackson 
(Stonewall) was born January 24, 1824; died May 10, 
1863, from wound received at the battle of Chancellors- 
ville, Va. 

22. General George B. McClellan (Federal) — 

1. In the dark days of '61 

He was our country's greatest son, 
Acknowledged such both far and near. 
By some from love, by some from fear. 

2. In those trying days of '62 

We find him ever brave and true. 
And loved by all true patriots 
For his great science in war arts. 

3. But in the year '63 — 

Ah! well — but yet it was to be! — 

No longer at his army's head, 

Who loved the soil beneath his tread! 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 113 

4. Yet in the year '64 

He is as loyal as of yore, 
Ever ready to mount his steed, 
And battle for his country's need. 

5. Why in the field he did not stay 
I will not venture here to say; 

But by all his greatness was known. 
Even though it was overthrown. 

22. Showing' the strength of the Union Army, '61 -'65: 

July 1, 1861 — present, 183,588; absent, 3,163. Total, 

186,751. 
January 1, 1862 — present, 527,204; absent, 48,714. Total, 

575,918. 
March 31, 1862— present, 533,984; absent, 103,152. Total, 

63;, 126. 
January 1, 1863 — present, 689,802 

Total, 'JO 9, 11)1. 
January 1, 1864 — present, 611,250 

Total, 860,737. 
January 1, 1865 — present, 620,924 

Total, 959,460. 
March 31,1 865— present, 657,747 ; absent, 322,339. Total, 

980,086. 
May 1, 1865 — present, volunteers, 787,807; absent, vol- 
' unteers, 202,709. Total, 990,516, or nearly 1,000,000. 

24. Number of colored troops enlisted during the 
rebellion, 186,090. 

25. The casualties of the Union Army during the 
rebellion were: 

Officers and men killed 60,970 

Died of wounds 35,963 

Died of disease 183,46-1 



absent, 219,389. 
absent, 249,487. 
absent, 338,536. 



Total 280,397 

Discharged for disability 224,306 



Grand total of loss to the Union Army, 
'61— '65, not including thousands who were 
probably killed and marked "missing"... 504,703 



114 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 

2(>. There were of officers and men 302 who committed 
suicide, 103 homicide, and 121 were executed. 

Colors of a heavenly hue, 
How great our sacrifice for you! 
Now guide us through a peaceful life 
To that land where there is no strife. 

27. Quincy Adams Gilmore (Federal), born at Black 
River, Lorain County, Ohio, 1825, graduated 1849. In 
1861 he received a commission as captain in the U. S. 
service. His abilities as an engineer were soon notice- 
able, and he was appointed Chief Engineer of the Port 
Royal expedition, where he planned the siege of Fort 
Pulaski, at the mouth of the Savannah River, which 
was captured in the early part of '02. He afterwards 
commanded the 10th Army Corps, and did good ser- 
vice during the siege of Charleston Harbor, also 
through the rebellion. 

28. David D. Porter (Federal), son of Commodore 
David Porter, born in the year 1814, and in the year 
1829 entered the navy, and served there the greater 
part of the time, from one position to another, till the 
outbreak of the rebellion, when he was placed in com- 
mand of the steam sloop-of-war Powhatan, and placed 
on blockade duty. He finally became commander of 
one of our greatest naval fleets, and history tells of the 
great work he accomplished. 

29. John A. McClernand (Federal) was a lawyer by 
profession, from Illinois. At the outbreak of the re- 
bellion he entered the Union Army, and soon became 
a brigadier-general, and proving himself to be a shrewd 
military man in many battles, was ranked as Major- 
General of Volunteers. 

30. Benjamin F. Butler (Federal), of Massachusetts, 
like McClernand, was a lawyer, and proved himself a 
valuable officer for the Union cause. 

31. Phillip Henry Sheridan (Federal), born 1831, in 
Perry County, Ohio, and entered West Point, 1848. He 
graduated in June, 1853, and then entered the U. S. 
Army as Brevet Second Lieutenant of Infantry. At 



THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER. 115 

the outbreak of the rebellion Sheridan had only risen 
to the rank of second lieutenant, but during the year 
of '01 received a captain's commission. He took, as I 
might say, no active part till May, '62, when he was 
appointed Colonel of a Massachusetts Regiment (2nd 
Cavalry), after which he proved himself a dashing and 
victorious officer, and at the end of the rebellion was 
ranking as Major-General of the U. S. Army. 

32. John Sedgwick (Federal), while in command of 
the 6th Army Corps, was killed at Spottsylvania Court- 
house, Va. He was a native of Connecticut, and was 
born in the year 1811, and graduated at West Point, 
1837. When the rebellion commenced, it greatly 
changed his contemplations, for he was then about to 
retire. He soon became an active officer in the Union 
Army, and his loss was great to the Union, and mourned 
by all. 

33. Robert E. Lee (Confederate), born in Virginia, 

1808, graduated from West Point, 1829, and was ap- 
pointed Second Lieutenant of Engineers. Having 
served faithfully, and with credit, in the U. S. Army, 
was, at the outbreak of the rebellion, ranking as 
Colonel. Like many others, he should have been the 
last to desert his country; but when his State, Virginia, 
seceded, he went with it, and took an active part, from 
the beginning to the end of the rebellion, in the Con- 
federate service. 

34. Abraham Lincoln (Federal), born February 12, 

1809, died April 15, 1865— Hadginville, Ky., his birth- 
place. Mr. Lincoln was a faithful servant to his people 
while President of the United States, and his assassi- 
nation was hardly approved of by the most radfcal 
secessionist. 

In our historic civil war 

There shines a part our brave ones bore. 

In many battles gory red 

Sounded their gallant noble tread. 
Within this silent resting-place 
Is mounds we yearly love to trace, 
To strew them with rich garlands fair, 
Heaven's sweet gift to us so rare. 



116 THE VILLAGE COLOR-BEARER 

Leaving their homes and friends so dear, 
Onward they march'd without a fear, 
Venturing to the cannon's mouth, 
Even in the farthest South. 
With the spirit of soldiers old 
Ever battled our brave ones bold, 

Resting not till our land was clear, 
Even beyond the slightest fear. 
Merrily they sang loyal songs; 
Eagerly they fought to right wrongs; 
Many suffered heartrending pain, 
Before the battle they could gain; 
Even now, in that Southern land, 
Rest some of our brave village band. 
To them our mem'ry is as clear 
Here to-day as though they were near. 
Every kind kindred here to-day 
Echo the words of praise I say, 

Because they all remember well 
Rebellion's mournful sounding knell. 
As fathers, brothers, husbands, all 
Ventured forth to our Union's call, 
Every sister and mother dear 
Offered up a prayer of cheer — 
Now in peace, tfu3 word of prayer: 
Ever guide us, Lord, with care! 
So say we all. 



Having now brought the story of "The Village 
Color-Bearer" to a close, and feeling confident that 
the reader has been much interested in the valuable 
information the author has added to his reminiscences 
of the late war of the rebellion, he will proceed to 
give, in the following pages, his experience in the U. S 
Life-Saving Service, and trust that it will be of equal 
interest, and the information he presents be as useful 
to the reader and all whom it may reach. 



The U. S. Life-Saving Service Keeper. 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 



Rockaway Beach and its ocean shore! 

And do I remember its mighty roar ? 

Ah ! I guess I do, and always will, 

For with pride I think of my playground still. 



Although our beaches at times present an inde- 
scribable scene, and one of the most heart-rending, 
such as a vessel stranding at night and during a heavy 
storm, with the wind blowing on shore, the mighty 
waves soon washing over the ship, causing passengers 
and crew to seek safety in the rigging — this, although 
far from being a comfortable position, probably 
affords a safe refuge for a short time — but finally, 
as strong as the rigging and spars have hitherto ap- 
peared, give way to the mighty power of the ocean, 
and its precious burden is plunged deep in the roaring 
sea, and there, by its wonderful power, carried to the 
shore through the foaming billows, and left lifeless 
on its 'beach ; but, as the darkness breaks away and 
the storm abates, kind hearts and strong arms clear 
the beach of wreckage, and tenderly care for its vic- 
tims. A brighter and more pleasing scene, perchance, 
soon presents itself. The sun beaming in its brightest 
rays, the ocean calm and quiet, with the exception of 
a low rolling swell, which makes its way to the beach 
leisurely, and simply announces its arrival by a slight 
rumbling noise, which only attracts without causing 
affright to the most youthful; and, as if to amuse and 
delight, sends its silvery spray a short distance up- 
wards, where the sun, as if to aid the treacherous sea, 
will cause it to sparkle like so many diamonds. 

Such are the scenes of our ocean shores, 
That none could help but fear its claws — 
Again, no place could give more delight, 
With their dazzling picturesque sight. 



122 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

My great-grandfather, while yet in the prime of life, 
having made his home on Rockaway Beach and died 
there, my grandfather being born and died there, and 
my father being born there, and again I living there 
during my youthful days, naturally placed me in pos- 
session of its seashore changeable panorama; for many 
hours have I listened to recitals of disasters and ad- 
ventures along the beach ; also of the man}' rambles, 
along the surf, of the lighthearted and frolicsome 
girls and boys. It was here that I got my first pair of 
skates, which were taken from a brig that stranded 
upon our beach (Hog Island Shoals), with a miscel- 
laneous cargo, of which skates and rock candy I have 
the best remembrance. Other wrecks I looked upon 
in my boyhood days with interest, but their cargoes 
not being of a nature suitable to a boyish taste, their 
incidents are not so bright to my vision. The greatest 
loss of life on Rockaway Beach was probably the 
wrecking of the ship Bristol, which occurred a little 
to the West of the now Seaside Avenue (running from 
the Seaside Hotel , in about the year 1889. The weather 
had been somewhat "thick" and stormy for a few 
days, but at the time of the Bristol's grounding the 
sea had not reached its greatest magnitude. As the 
ship struck upon the beach (about four hundred yards 
off shore) bells were rung and guns were fired from on 
board the ship. This soon attracted the attention of 
the few inhabitants of Ruffle Bar, a small island in 
Jamaica Bay, and about a mile and a half to the North 
of Rockaway Beach, and nearly opposite the scene of 
disaster. My mother was living at this time with her 
parents on Ruffle Bar, and her brother (Carman Bald- 
win), with two or three others, now took a yawl boat 
and rowed across to the beach, where they joined the 
few inhabitants of the beach. This yawl was now 
placed upon a wagon and drawn across the beach, and 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 123 

launched into the surf, and made two or three trips 
to the Bristol, returning loaded as deeply as possible 
with passengers each time; but the sea increased so 
rapidly all further attempts to get through the surf 
were fruitless, although brave endeavors were made; 
but no sooner — with the most skilful management — 
would the now historic little boat be launched from 
the beach than she would be thrown, with her brave 
crew, back upon the shore. Now came the greatest 
scene of horror. The few who had been rescued 
began to realize the fate of their dear loved ones cling- 
ing to the rigging of the fast demolishing ship, and 
in their despairing frenzy some would offer one, two, 
or even more, thousand dollars for the rescue of some 
one, others would implore the aid of Deity, but all was 
of no avail. The life-savers now prevailed upon some 
of the rescued to leave the sad scene, but others could 
not be induced to leave till after the last hope of rescue 
had vanished, which was after the last spar had con- 
signed its clinging mass of humanity to the deep. A 
patrol was now established upon the beach, and as the 
ocean gave up those which she had claimed they were 
properly cared for. 

I remember of hearing my uncle, on my father's 
side, telling of the scene on first getting off to the 
Bristol, two or three days after the disaster. The ocean 
was calm, with the exception of a ground sea (high 
rolling sea), and overhead the sun was spreading its 
radiant light from a cloudless sky. As they reached 
the wreck and got over the fallen spars, the water 
being very clear, the scene that the}- then witnessed 
was never forgotten by them. A number of ladies 
could be seen lashed to the submerged spars, and the 
one among them most conspicuous was that of a young 
woman. She was so fastened in the loose rigging that 
it gave her the appearance of sitting in a swing and 



124 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

being leisurely swung to and fro; as the ingoing sea 
would carry her forward, her long dark hair would 
trail behind, which added to the lifelike appearance of 
its owner. 

About the year 185? there was a Life Saving Station 
erected on Rockaway Beach, near where I was resid- 
ing — the Ryder Homestead. This station contained 
a metallic surfboat suitable for six oarsmen, oars and 
a limited amount of cordage — about thirty fathoms of 
a two and a half inch hawser nearly covered the entire 
amount of cordage — but even this limited amount of 
life-saving appliances did good service, and it had not 
been assigned to duty long before it took an active 
part. During the early part of the winter, and during 
a very severe easterly storm, I was awakened just be- 
fore daybreak by a melancholy sound of a ringing bell. 
This sound 

Mingling with the great tempest dirge 
Caused me quickly to emerge 
From cot, and leave that garret old 
Which of many storms had told. 

I believe every country boy of a few years back re- 
members well of his sleeping apartments in usually 
an unceiled garret. I remember of more than once, 
on awakening in the morning and finding myself sur- 
rounded by snow-drifts, and they not all diminutive 
ones either, and my bed-covering weighing consider- 
ably more than it did when I retired, and its color 
completely changed to a spotless white ; but to me 
there was always a fascination about our old garret. 
How late I would lie of a morning, if I would be per- 
mitted to do so, and listen to a roaring wind, through 
the many crevices, or the beating of hail, snow or rain 
upon that old weather-beaten roof. But on hearing 
the bells ringing this morning its charms to me were 
forgotten for the moment; and springing out of bed, 



THE U. S. LIFEtSAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 125 

I was soon dressed and down stairs, for I instantly 
divined the meaning of that bell, having- been well 
taught, through recitals, of signals of distress on our 
beaches. Arriving down stairs I called my uncle, 
whom I was residing with, but his voice did not an- 
swer my call ; instead, it was my aunt's, who said: 
"Uncle Ben. has gone over to the surf; he thought 
there was a vessel on the beach." I now asked per- 
mission to go over to the surf. My aunt at first hesi- 
tated, but finally gave her consent; after which I was 
not long in making my way across the beach to the 
surf, even though the storm was raging, and but little 
of the coming daylight had as yet made its appearance. 
On reaching the surf, there I beheld in its fullest term 
a shipwreck. It was the bark John Shrowd. She had 
been driven by the fierceness of the storm upon the 
beach about South from where I lived, or at the sea- 
side terminus of the now Eldert Avenue. On arriving 
at the scene of disaster I found the morning cold, and 
yet quite dark; but I saw there about all of the beach 
inhabitants, and a number from Rockaway, and they 
were getting the surf boat ready to launch. 

In a surf maddened by the gale — 
Which herald many a wail — 
And looked defiance at man's will, 
With his appliances and skill. 

As every sea was sweeping over the bark's decks, 
and her almost exhausted crew clinging in her fore 
rigging, all haste was made towards their rescue. 
With great interest I saw the brave crew volunteer to 
man the surfboat and get her ready for launching, 
and how impatiently they waited a few moments for 
an abatement of the huge breakers. Finally, the word 
was given, and the crew, who had been holding their 
boat in the edge of the surf, gave her all the headway 
they could, and then jumped into her and tried to get 



12G THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

off. The men being experienced oarsmen, pulled man- 
fully, but, the wind blowing so hard on shore, they 
were unable to get out beyond the dark, hollowed 
break which soon met them. As the boat and sea met 
the bow of the boat was pitched so high in the air that 
it appeared that she must over-end; the next instant, 
the sea breaking, the brave crew and their noble boat 
were enveloped in its madly-tossed waters. 

All on shore now, for an instant, were awe-stricken; 
for it looked as though boat and crew had been dashed 
to the bottom of the ocean; but as the sea, after break- 
ing, swept madly high up upon the beach, it carried 
the surf boat and crew with it, where they were in- 
stantly, before the receding of the sea could carry them 
back, assisted by those who were on the beach. Two 
more attempts met with the same result, but the 
fourth was more successful. This time they got out 
beyond the break, but the current was running so 
strongly to the westward they could not quite reach 
the bark, but got near enough to throw the end of a 
small line on board, or in the fore rigging, where a 
sailor caught it. The surfboat now returned to the 
beach, and her crew bent their end of the small line 
on the end of their hawser, which was hauled off by 
the bark's crew and made fast, after which the shore 
end was made fast to a large pile, which had been 
buried, end first, down deep in the sand. Two ropes 
were used now, one made fast at each end of the surf- 
boat (she being a double-ender) and over the hawser, 
which prevented the boat from getting away from the 
hawser, but allowed her to be hauled to and from the 
bark. When the surfboat was hauled off she was 
hauled under the bowsprit, and from there, by means 
of a rope, the bark's crew was taken in the surfboat. 
There was one woman on board; she was made fast 
to a rope and lowered down first; she was the stew- 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 127 

arc! ess, and was nearly exhausted, but by good treat- 
ment for a few days was able to go to New York City. 
Providentially, there was none of the crew lost; but 
they were only saved by the greatest of courage and 
skill. The bark was a total loss, but her cargo, which 
was mostly flour, was not so seriously injured; the 
barrels of flour were only wet in about three inches, 
inside of that it was good. I might say here that at 
this time there were but four houses on the beach, 
viz.: Elias Watts, about a mile and a quarter East of 
my uncle's (the Ryder Homestead) ; Lewis Dodge, 
half a mile Southeast, and the other about one mile 
West, which was occupied, I believe, at the time, but 
the name of its occupant I have forgotten. I might 
add yet another house, if such it could be called; still, 
it sheltered a family, and they were properly named 
"the happy family," if to neglect all acts of cleanli- 
ness and the ways of this world's people would make 
them happy, certainly they had their share of happi- 
ness. There were four in this family, viz.: Father, 
mother, sister and brother, and their residence, such 
as it was, was about half way between my uncle's and 
the upland (the West part of'Far Rockaway), distance 
about four miles. 

Their house or shanty, thatched o'er with straw, 
Looked " rustic" enough from outdoor; 
But the inside, where all was centred. 
Few visitors ever entered. 

Rockaway Beach had many charms for me, and I 
still think pleasantly of my boyhood days there, and 
of the many strolls I have had along its surf, 

Where Winter's storms gave me no fear, 
And the angry waves did but cheer 
Me through the darkness of the night 
As well as by the bright daylight. 

The reminiscences of Rockaway Beach would make 



128 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

an interesting book ; but it is not my purpose to go 
far into details. Still, I will make mention of one or 
two more incidents. I was not very old before I 
learned well of the surf and its inducements, of which 
the pleasant scenes of the calm ocean or the mag- 
netism of its storm -lashed waters was not always the 
greatest ; therefore I was always watchful as to the 
wind's direction, duration and velocity. Any South- 
erly wind, from Southeast to Southwest, was favor- 
able, but the nearer South the' better it was thought 
to be for our purpose. The wind having been Easterly, 
and the weather stormy for a day or two, and the wind 
finally working around to about South at about noon, 
and blowing fresh, kept me during the afternoon some- 
what uneasy, for I wanted to get over to the surf 
ahead of the other boys. This was about the year 1855. 
There was now a family living in the Watts house 
by the name of Foster, and some of the boys often 
went along the surf. But I had work to do, so I could 
not go till after sunset, and then it was with the 
greatest reluctance that my aunt gave me permission; 
but after getting her consent, I was but a short time 
making my way across the beach, although it was now 
getting dark, and the heavy'clouds overhead and black 
waters off shore adding greatly to its density, still, I 
lost none of my desire to take a "cruise " to the west, 
although the roaring of the wind and sea was almost 
deafening. I had not gone far, however, before I 
stopped and tried to look seaward, for I imagined I 
could hear the cry for help; but the darkness was so 
great that my eyesight failed to pierce its thickness 
beyond the foaming break. But there! being carried 
in upon its crest, what did I behold? A huge, black 
object in its snowy-white foam. I was not frightened, 
but stood in a sort of bewilderment. Still, I was not 
held in its grasp long, for in an instant the black ob- 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVIXG SERVICE KEEPER. 1^'.) 

ject was thrown upon the beach. Without thought I 
quickly approached it, and soon discovered its nature. 
It was a large hogshead, about five feet in height and 
measuring across the top about four feet. It was 
lying upon its side, and with my utmost strength I 
was but just able to roll it above high water-mark. 
Now my work commenced, and all thought, save that 
of getting the hogshead up, was quickly banished from 
my mind. As dark as the night was, there was con- 
stantly one or two of these hogsheads in my view, 
either upon the beach or in the edge of the boiling 
surf, from which it was soon landed high upon the 
beach. I continued my work of rolling them up until 
I was nearty exhausted. Luckily I could see no more, 
so quite willingly I turned my steps homeward; but 
I had done a good night's work, having rolled up sixty 
of those hogsheads. 

With what pride did I return home and report to 
my uncle what I had accomplished, who was anxiously 
waiting my return, as the hour was now late. I felt 
sure that my uncle would go to the surf early the next 
morning. So, before bidding him good night, I asked 
permission to go with him if he did go. " I will think 
it over," answered my uncle. Although, being greatly 
fatigued, and the hour being late when I did retire for 
the night, still I was up early the next morning. Yet 
I was not up early enough to find my uncle at home, for 
he had long been gone to the surf and at an early hour 
returned, having added about forty hogsheads to my 
number. These hogsheads proved to have been a deck 
load of some vessel, and during the rough weather had 
been washed overboard. They were given up to the 
owners, a firm in New York City, who paid my uncle 
liberally for his trouble. 

I often picked up little curiosities along the surf, 
which were always eagerly sought. I also found a 



130 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

number of heavy sticks of timber, which, after being 
advertised, were sold, my uncle receiving from the 
sale a fair compensation. In the year 1858 the Foster 
boys found the remains of a young man on the beach, 
near what was called "the Baters," a large opening 
across the beach, where there had been an inlet through 
and through, which my grandmother often told me 
she had seen large vessels pass. This young man was 
well dressed and of wealthy parents, and his death 
was a mystery, but it was supposed that he had been 
drowned from one of the docks of New York City. 
There was a reward of $500, which the Fosters got, 
also $20 for caring for the remains; so that there was 
constantly an inducement, other than that of pleasure, 
in "cruising" the surf. 

My object being mainly to give a few incidents and 
adventures while in the Life-Saving Service, I will not 
dwell longer upon early beach incidents. To give a 
better knowledge of the Life-Saving Service, perhaps 
it will be well to give a little of its history — that is, 
our Government's Life-Saving Service. As I have 
said, about the year 1857 there was a station erected 
on Roekaway Beach, and furnished with a boat, &c. 
Similar stations were erected on the Jersey beach, and 
they were similarly furnished. A keeper for each one 
of these stations, whose duty it was to enrol a volun- 
teer crew (who only received compensation upon ren- 
dering service), to look after the house and its property, 
and render all possible assistance in the saving of life 
and property, was appointed by the Government, and 
for his services he received a small yearly compensa- 
tion. Although this beginning, as small as it was, 
rendered valuable service, still it was slow in making 
itself felt sufficiently to guarantee any great advance- 
ment, and not until 1871 did its rapid growth begin, 
when the small sum of 110,080 was appropriated for 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING .SERVICE KEEPER. I'M 

the employment of a few crews on the Jersey beach, 
who were to reside at certain stations, and establish a 
patrol upon the beach, in the near vicinity of their 
stations, from December 15 to March 15. The estab- 
lishment of this little patrol, I believe, is wholly due 
to the quick perception of the energetic little Senator, 
S. S. Cox, of New York, although great credit is as well 
due Senators Dawes of Massachusetts and Stockton of 
New Jersey, and to whom thousands to-day are in- 
debted for their lives, not speaking of the vast amount 
of property saved. The establishment of this little 
patrol bore such fruit that it gave such an impetus to the 
service that rapid strides were immediately noticeable 
towards its great advancement, 

And as though it was but a day 
From its childhood to man's ray, 
It rose so noble and so grand, 
With pride it has covered our land. 

Each year now brought forth some new improve- 
ment; old stations were put in better condition, and 
new ones built, and they were better equipped; the 
employment of extra crews, the prolonging of their 
term of service, and the increase in their pay — all 
showed the appreciation of the service. This service 
comes under the head of the Treasury Department; 
but it having become, some time since, such an impor- 
tant branch, a General Superintendent, with assistants, 
was appointed, whose office is at the Treasury Depart- 
ment, Washington, D. C, and who has the supervision 
of all the service. The service is divided into districts, 
and each district has its District Superintendent, who 
is a civilian, and an Assistant Inspector, who is a Lieu- 
tenant of the Revenue Marine Service. There is also an 
Inspector, whose office is in New York City, and who is 
of the Revenue Marine Service. The District Superin- 
tendent is always a welcome visitor, as it is he who 



13^ THE V. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

pays the crews, which is quarterly, June the 30th being 
the end of the fiscal year. He also has the power of 
finding out the proficiency of the crews in their duty 
and the condition of the Government property in the 
stations; but this is usually the duty of the Assistant 
Inspector, or, as I might say, it is his duty, and he 
usually attends to it very regularly — too much so for 
many of the crews. While I was in the service I must 
say that we were favored with good and gentlemanly 
District Superintendents, " Capt." Huntting, of Bridge- 
hampton, being our first, and then Mr. Arthur Downing, 
of Bay Shore, N. Y. 

My first duties in the U. S. L. S. S. commenced, after 
passing a medical examination at the Revenue Marine 
Hospital (which all new men are obliged to do upon 
first entering the service, but, after once passing there, 
they can, at the commencement of each year thereafter, 
if they choose, be examined by a family physician), 
September 1st, 1883, in the Coney Island Life-Saving 
Station, at Manhattan Beach, L. I., N. Y., about 150 
yards East of the Oriental Hotel. The crews in our 
district went on duty then as now, viz., six men on the 
1st of September and the " 7" man on the 1st of Decem- 
ber, and all staying until the 30th of April, commenc- 
ing at midnight and ending the same. Their pay was 
as now — keepers, 1700 per annum; surfmen (crew), $50 
per month during the active service. During the in- 
active season (May, June, July and August,) all went 
to their homes and sought other employment, the 
keeper going occasionally and looking after the prop- 
erty (station, &c.) During my first year I was No. 4 
in the crew. Our duty was about as follows, after we 
had got in "working order:" Our hours of patrol 
were — "A" from sunset until 8 p. m.; "B" from 8 p. m. 
until midnight; "C" from midnight until 4 a. m.; and 
then "A" again from 4 a. m. until sunrise, after which 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 133 

he did the cooking for the day, and was "day duty man." 
The distance of our patrol was about 1\ miles East and 
'2 miles West of our station. The duty of the patrol- 
man, if he saw any one that he could assist, was to do 
so; if he saw any vessel sailing too near in towards 
the beach, he was to warn her off by burning one of 
his caution signal lights; these he carried in a box 
similar to a cartridge-box worn by soldiers for carry- 
ing their ammunition in. To burn the signal, the 
patrolman would insert it in a "holder" which he car- 
ried, and by hitting a spindle which was in the other 
end of the holder the signal would be ignited and give 
a bright red light. This would signify to the vessel 
that she was running into danger. If the patrolman 
saw a vessel in distress, of whatever nature, and could 
not render all necessary assistance himself, he was to 
report it to the Keeper of the Station as soon as possi- 
ble. He was also required to keep a good lookout for 
smugglers, and take charge of all smuggled goods, or 
report the same to the keeper. At the station he was 
to note, on a slate kept for the purpose, the state of 
wind, weather and surf at midnight; the day duty man 
noting the same at sunrise, moon and sunset, also the 
number of vessels which passed the station during the 
day — for example: "Ships, 8; barks, 4; brigs, 9; steam- 
ers, 20; schooners, 48; sloops, 20;" and if he saw any 
vessel in distress, he (day duty man) was to report the 
same to the keeper, or the one in charge during the 
absence of the keeper. No. 1 would be in charge. Our 
drilling consisted of the following, but we were not 
overworked by drill at this time: Practising with the 
surfboat was done by launching and going through 
the surf, and then rowing for half an hour. Beach 
apparatus was as follows, but to make it thoroughly 
understood would perhaps be impossible, still I may 
give an insight as to its working, and briefly explain 



134 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

the duties of a surfman (those employed in the 
U. S. L. S. S.) The beach apparatus paraphernalia is 
always carefully, and in accordance with regulations, 
stowed away upon a cart, and after the crew assembles 
in the boatroom for drill, the keeper gives the com- 
mand, " Open Boatroom Doors; man the Beach Wagon." 
The men designated for this duty open the doors, and 
after the crew has manned the wagon (see illustration 
on page 118), each man repeats the lesson of his duty. 
After each man has recited his lesson, the Captain 
gives the command, "Forward," and upon reaching 
the desired point, commands, "Halt." The command 
"Action" is then given, and during the progress of the 
drill the following additional commands are given: 
"Man weather part of whip," "Haul out," "Man lee 
whip," " Haul ashore." 

After the gun is taken from the cart and loaded with 
from one to seven pounds of powder, a shot (iron) 
weighing 19 lbs., and 16 inches in length, with a thin 
shank in one end, is inserted in the gun upon the 
the powder (the powder being in flannel bags); but 
before the insertion of the shot in the gun, the end of 
the shot-line is tied in the eye of th,e shank, which re- 
mains just out from the muzzle of the gun — an excel- 
lent brass piece. The gun being sighted, elevated, &c, 
by the Captain, he then gives the command, "Ready," 
and fires the gun, which is done by friction primer 
and lanyard. Supposing it to be at a wreck, the shot 
being thrown over the vessel, carrying the line with 
it, the line is got by those on board, and after the shore 
end is made fast around the whip-block, they begin to 
haul off (upon signal), and, on getting the block, make 
it fast (by a rope which is spliced around it for the 
purpose), well up to one of the vessel's spars, a tally- 
board (No. 1) accompanying the block, with directions 
in both English and French. This whip-block is a 



the r. s. Life-saving service keeper. 135 

single block, and a rope which is known as the "whip," 
is rove through it, the two ends being kept on shore, 
one of which is rove through the sand-anchor-block 
(or another block for the purpose); after which the 
two whip ends are bent (tied) together and then made 
fast to the end of the hawser (a 2^-inch rope), which 
is hauled off from the shore, by the whip, to the vessel, 
and made fast about two feet above the whip-block. 
Tally-board No. 2 accompanies the hawser. The whip 
being unbent by the vessel's crew, is overhauled by the 
station crew, until they get the two parts which are 
bent together. Before the hawser is sent off, the end 
of it is rove through the "breeches buoy" block. This 
breeches buoy is round, made of canvas, and filled with 
cork; it is in diameter 18 inches on the inside, and '17 
inches over all, the buoy being like a big round ring. 
There is attached on the inside, as it is often termed, 
a pair of " trousers," with the legs cut very short. 
These trousers hang down when the buoy is raised. 
On the upper part of this buoy are slings, which are 
made fast to the traveller block; the snap traveller 
block is now very seldom used. The two ends of the 
whip, after being overhauled, are unbent and made 
fast to the lower part of the traveller block, there being 
a place for the purpose. Now, if you remember, we 
have one end of the hawser made fast to the spar of 
the wreck. The shore end is now made fast to the 
sand anchor. This sand anchor is, say two pieces, of 
H-inch planking, 10 inches in width, and 4 feet in 
length. These two pieces are laid flat upon each other 
and bolted together at the centre, but in such a man- 
ner that" they can be opened, but remaining flat, and 
closed easily. One end of a piece of large rope, say 
feet in length, is made fast to the centre of the sand 
anchor. At the other end of this rope is the sand an- 
chor block. The sand anchor is opened slightly and 



136 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

placed on its ends down in a hole dug for the purpose, 
the fiat part facing the wreck, and the top part canted 
a little backwards. In this manner the sand anchor is 
buried. The shore end of the hawser, in being- made 
fast to the sand anchor, is snapped into the sand 
anchor block. The hawser is now hauled moderately 
taut, and then the crotch is raised under it. This 
raises the hawser at the edge of the beach about eight 
feet, which, to a great extent, prevents the buoy from 
being drawn through the water. After the crotch is 
raised the hawser is hauled as taut as it can be got, 
by a four-fall tackle. After this is done, the weather 
(say right) whip is manned, and the buoy hauled out. 
As a better explanation of this whip while in use we 
will say that we have a rope 200 yards in length, and 
hauled out to its full length from east to west — this 
representing the hawser from the wreck to the shore — 
now place a coil of rope just on the south side of the 
hawser and near the west end; then let a man take 
each end of this rope, and one with his end go to the 
east, and at the end of the hawser, reeve it through a 
block and bring it back on the north side of the 
hawser, to a point opposite from where he started; let 
the other man go to the west with his end, and reeve 
it through the block at the west end of the hawser, 
turn and bring it on the north side of the hawser, till 
he gets opposite the starting point, where he meets the 
other man with his end. Now, we'll say let those two 
ends be made fast to the breeches buoy, or traveller 
block which runs upon the hawser. This being done, 
it can easily be seen that by hauling out on the South 
(weather) side, sends the breeches buoy out to the 
wreck, where one person at a time gets in and is hauled 
ashore by the surf man manning the lee (North) whip. 
No. 1 surfman always remains in charge of the lee 
whip, and No. 2 in charge of the weather whip ; the 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 137 

other men are called shifting- men on the whip. For 
practice we have a pole representing the spar of a 
vessel, and a ladder going up to a small platform which 
is around the pole. The shot being fired, with shot- 
line over the pole, one of the crew goes to the pole, 
and after performing the duty of a shipwrecked crew, 
gets in the buoy and is " hauled ashore.'' This drill 
is performed in the short time of five minutes, and 
often in less time, and is done precisely the same as 
though at a wreck; but at a wreck the time depends 
entirely upon circumstances— it would naturally take 
half an hour in ordinary times. The greatest distance, 
I believe (I have heard of none greater), that people 
have been rescued from shipwreck is 450 yards by the 
beach apparatus. The lesson of resuscitation of the 
apparently drowned is somewhat lengthy, and the 
committing of it to memory and the reciting of it is 
seldom appreciated by surf men, but in the working of 
the practical part they become, as a rule, quite pro- 
ficient. They also readily gain a good knowledge of 
the treatment of wounds and exposures in the cold, 
frostbites, &c. 

The International Code of vSignals is, as its name 
implies, that adopted by all nations, and is used for 
signalling from one vessel or point to another. All 
large vessels, of whatever nationality, as a rule, carry 
this Code; and should one be near a Signal or Lifc- 
Saving Station and wish to communicate, she could 
easily do so. The principal object of having the code 
in the Life-Saving Stations is in cases of distress. The 
following will give a slight idea of the code and its use: 

B Burgee — Red, swallow-tail. 

C Pennant — White, with red spot. 

D Pennant — Blue, with white spot. 

F Pennant — Red, with white spot. 

G Pennant — Yellow, blue, in two vertical stripes. 



138 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

SQUARE FLAGS. 

H White, reel, in two vertical stripes. 

J Blue, white, blue, in three horizontal stripes. 

K Yellow, blue, in two vertical stripes. 

L Blue and yellow, in four alternate checks. 

M Blue, with white diagonal cross. 

N Blue and white, in sixteen alternate checks. 

P Blue, with white centre. 

Q Yellow. Quarantine. 

R Red, with yellow right cross. 

5 White, with blue centre. 

T Red, white, blue, in three vertical stripes. 

V White, with red diagonal cross. 

W Blue, white, red, in three borders. 

Code Pennant — Red and white, in five vertical stripes. 

This code requires considerable study. Still, the 
surfman gains a very good knowledge of its use. The 
following as an example: Two-flag hoist, burgee up- 
permost, is an attention signal; two-flag hoist, pennant 
uppermost, is a compass signal; two-flag hoist, square 
flag uppermost, is a distress signal. And then we have 
the three and four flag hoist. 

Our duties in the house were, usually: No. 1 had 
charge of the boat room, and was responsible for its 
cleanliness; No. 2, the upstairs work, which was to see 
that the covering on the cots (each man having a cot 
to himself) were in order, and to the cleanliness of the 
room, the other men doing all the work in the kitchen, 
with the exception of the cooking and setting of the 
table, which the day duty man did. Day duty would 
come about once a week for each man. Our station 
was classed among the best, and was built in the year 
1878, near where the old one stood (of the old volun- 
teer style). 

March 4, 1880, early in the morning, the wind was 
blowing very hard from the Northeast, and the weath- 
er was "thick" and stormy, and had been for a day or 
two; but at about 11 o'clock a. m., the wind working 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 13!) 

around to the Sotitheast, the fog broke away, and, to 
the surprise of the station crew, they saw a piece of a 
wreck just to the West of our West Shoals, and upon 
looking closely, saw there was a man upon it. They 
immediately took their surfboat about one-third of a 
mile to the East, where the surf was not quite so high, 
and launched her. The distance then was about l-£ 
miles to the floating piece of wreckage, and the sea 
running very high ; but fortunately the wind had 
lulled considerably, which enabled the crew to make 
very good headway. But just before reaching the ob- 
ject in pursuit of, they encountered a large number of 
kerosene barrels (empty), and other signs of a serious 
marine disaster. On reaching the piece of wreckage 
which they had sighted, they found there was but the 
one man upon it, and it was with great difficulty that 
they rescued him, as the sea was very high, and he 
being nearly exhausted; but he was finally got safe in 
the surfboat and taken to the station, where, after a 
few hours of kind treatment, he made the following 
statement (through an interpreter): His name was 
Petro Sala, of the Italian bark Ajace, of Genoa, 566 
tons register, bound for New York. Sala further stated 
that the bark had been running before the wind dur- 
ing the morning (March 4), but as to their immediate 
whereabouts they did not know. Finally, at about 9 
o'clock, a. m., they found they were getting in shoal 
water and sharp seas. They then tried to head the 
bark off shore, but the wind and sea being so great, 
the bark was soon upon the shoals and in a tremendous 
break. Seas now began to wash over the vessel, and 
her spars soon fell; and in less than an hour's time 
there was but little of her left together. There was a 
crew of fourteen (officers and all) on board, and they 
all perished, with the exception of the one who chanced 
to be on a portion of the afterdeck when it was carried 



140 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 




THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 141 

away, and it was a miracle that he was able to cling 
to it as he did, for the bark went to pieces on the East 
Shoals, and Sala was carried across the main (Rocka- 
way) inlet and through the "wild" break of the West 
Shoals. All of the Ajace's crew were picked up shortly 
after the disaster, most of them on Manhattan Beach 
and by the station crew. 

My first year I remained as No. -1 surfman all through 
and without any incident of great interest. • At the 
commencement of my second year I was made No. 1, 
and acted as such the year through without any great 
adventures. I might say here that on or about Octo- 
tober 18, 1884, the Bennett and Mackay Cable was 
landed about 100 yards to the East of our station by 
the steamer Faraday. June 30, 1885, our keeper (Chas. 
Bebensee, of Coney Island L. S. Station), having ten- 
dered his resignation, and it being accepted, I was 
placed in charge of the station and under pay as surf- 
man in active service (#50) per month). During the 
inactive season ('85), Mr. Arthur Dominy superseded 
Mr. Henry E. Huntting as District Superintendent, 
which caused some delay in our crew going on active 
duty. About September 10, 1885, I received my ap- 
pointment as Keeper of Coney Island L. S. Station from 
Mr. C. S. Fairchild, acting Secretary of the Treasury 
Department. Sept. 15, 1885, I entered upon active duty 
with my crew. I might say here that my pay as keeper 
was seven hundred dollars per year. On entering upon 
active duty this season we all found a great change in 
our rules, and many privileges we had enjoyed we 
were now deprived of. Not only that, but our duty, 
as I might say, was increased tenfold. We were now 
obliged to have two patrolmen out at once — one East, 
the other West. This was double duty for the patrol- 
men. In starting this double patrol we had the time 
detecters given us. This obliged me to get up every 



142 ' THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

night at midnight and change the dials on the clocks. 
The former keepers never had any of this duty to do. 
In fact it was seldom they were ever called for any- 
thing after retiring for the night. Perhaps it would 
be well for me to give a little insight as to these time 
detecters, or their use. With these "clocks" we were 
given two iron safes. These safes we set in posts, 
which were placed at each end of the patrols (East and 
West); in these safes there were keys which the patrol- 
man, after unlocking the safe with a key that he car- 
ried, inserted in the clock and gave one turn. This 
punctured the dial (paper) on the face of the clock 
and showed the time of puncture and the number of 
the surfman doing the patrol. At midnight I wound 
the clocks and replaced the dials. These dials were 
sent to the District Superintendent every Monday, 
with my weekly transcript of the journal. Fortune 
now appeared to join in with our officers in adding to 
our labors, which the following shows: September 20, 
1885, we saved a yawl-boat, valued at sixty dollars and 
belonging to Samuel Greenwood, Jr., of Sheepshead 
Bay. She was off by our (Rockaway) West Shoals 
when picked up, about two miles from our station, and 
she would probably soon have been a total loss. 

October 13, 1885— On this date came to us a hard 
Northeaster, an extra high tide and a heavy fall of rain, 
which gave us a laborious duty — that of saving the 
yacht Christiana, owned by Mr. N. W. Moulton of New 
York City. The Christiana was anchored in Sheeps- 
head Bay, and had two anchors out; and her cables 
were supposed to have been good, but the wind blow- 
ing so hard, and the sea getting so high, caused her to 
part one of her cables, and then she began to drag her 
other anchor. Seeing this, I saw there was but one 
thing to do, and that was, to go with my crew on a 
roadway, which was all piled in with heavy piling, and 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 143 

where the Christiana was dragging towards, and not far 
from. This bulkhead, as I might say, was the scene of 
a solid spray, the wind driving the sea against it with 
such force that the water was flying over almost in a 
solid body. We had about one-fourth of a mile to go, 
and, although we went that distance very quick, we 
did not get on the bulkhead any too soon; for the yacht 
parted her other cable and squared away for us ; and 
as if with the utmost haste she wished to get to us for 
deliverance, she mounted the crest of a foaming wave, 
'and was borne with its great force swiftly towards us, 
regardless of the enemy on whose edge we were stand- 
ing — the bulkhead. The distance from where we were 
to Manhattan Beach was short, but I immediately saw 
that it would be impossible for us to get her there; so 
the only hope we had of saving her was to get her 
around a slight bend in the roadway towards Sheeps- 
head Bay, then board her, make sail and run her 
aground on the opposite shore (Sheepshead Bay). The 
sea that had borne the Christiana to the bulkhead had 
somewhat outrun her, and on receding, after striking 
the bulkhead and a large amount of seaweed, which 
had been driven by the wind against the roadway, 
greatly checked her speed. This we took advantage 
of, and, taking hold of her bowsprit, shoved her some 
distance before the next sea caught her; but when it 
did. she was thrown with such force that we feared 
there was no help for her. Still, we continued our per- 
severance, with the rain pouring down upon us, and 
each sea, as it struck the bulkhead, breaking solid over 
us. This, however, we were almost heedless of, so 
great was our danger of having some of our limbs 
broken or being instantly killed. Near the edge of 
this bulkhead were posts, with a top piece running 
over them of about 6 inches in width and 2 inches in 
thickness ; and to work to any advantge we were 



144 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

obliged to be between the edg-e of the bulkhead and 
this fence ; and as nearly every sea wowld throw the 
Christiana in, her bowsprit would corne down on this 
top rail with such force that it was instantly broken 
in pieces, and all of us had many narrow escapes from 
being" crushed. Although this fence was left in a de- 
lapidated condition enough where the Christiana had 
passed by, still, it had its revenge, for it had parted 
stays, knocked the bowsprit out of place, and other- 
wise greatly disarranged all of her head-gear. After 
reaching the bend in the roadway I found it was yet 
impossible to make sail. In fact, we had parted nearly 
every rope on board, even to the main sheets. There 
was another sloop that had dragged against this road- 
way, and the parties who had eharg-e of her cut a hole 
through her bottom and sunk her as quickly as they 
could, so as to save her from being demolished against 
the bulkhead. (Most of these yachts carry so much 
ballast that they will go to the bottom should they fill 
with water.) This the) - wanted me to do with the 
Christiana, but I foresaw the result — that the ''cure 
would be worse than the disease." My crew and my- 
self continued our labors, and finally reached a bridge 
running across the bay. At first we thought our boat 
would be dashed to pieces here, but fortune appeared 
to favor us again, for, on reaching- the bridge, we soon 
got her beyond the worst point, and then easily ran 
her along it to a place of safety, injured in all to about 
the amount of $100; $800 would be a low valuation for 
the yacht. On returning to our station I found we had 
been gone two hours; and I must say it was two hours 
of hard work for us ; but the consolation of knowing 
that we had saved fully $700 to the owner of the 
Christiana was ample reward for us. We were offered 
thanks and something more substantial for our labors 
by the Christiana's owner, but the thanks was all that 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 145 

we would accept. I might say here that among my 
crew who helped to save the Christiana was William 
Arend, one of the crew who saved the one man (Petro 
Sala) of the Italian bark Ajace, and James W. Nolan, 
one of my old army associates, two noble boys. Just 
after returning to my station I saw a small sloop, 
about 8 tons, being driven off to sea by the wind. She 
had parted her cable, with no one on board, in Jamai- 
ca Bay, and the wind was such that she came down 
out of Rockaway Inlet (the West way), passing within 
about 1| miles of my station. At first I thought of 
trying to save her, but I soon saw that it was impos- 
sible, as she was more than a mile to windward of me, 
and the ebb tide heading her off shore, she was going 
with far greater speed than we could row. 

January 13, 188G — Abraham W. Skidmore, of Canar- 
sie, wishing to get to Barren Island on important 
business, came to my station and requested me to take 
him across to the island, as the bay was frozen over 
in such a manner that he could not get there from 
Canarsie. James W. Nolan and myself went to the 
East end of our beach, distance about 1^ miles, where 
we got a yawl-boat, and took him across, distance 
nearly half a mile. There was a great deal of ice 
running at the time, which made the crossing very 
difficult. Still, we accomplished it without mishap. 

February 9, I860 — Abraham W. Skidmore, George 
Rhoe and Richard Guiler, wishing to go to Barren 
Island on business, came to my station, as they could 
not get to the island from any other point; Nolan and 
myself took them there in a yawl-boat. The whole of 
the journey was attended, with so much floating ice 
that it made it very laborious; still, we succeeded. 

February 27, 188B— 

A day to our vision yet bold, 
Made more lasting by its intense cold; 
Ami not one was on land to say 
They'll yet be saved from our icy bay. 



146 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

During' the evening of February 25, 1886, the wind 
came out from the Northwest, and at midnight it was 
blowing a gale, and so intense was the cold wave that 
came with it that our bays were soon completely 
covered with a heavy coating of ice; and at about 2 
o'clock, p. m., of the 27th inst., a gentleman repre- 
senting the Street Cleaning Department of the City 
of New York came to my station and reported to me 
that there were five or six persons on board of dump- 
ing scows anchored off in Gravesend Bay who would 
surely perish unless very soon rescued. The wind 
had not lost any of its velocity, neither had the in- 
tensity of the cold abated. When this gentleman (a 
Mr. Britton) came to my station all within was com- 
fortable and cheerful. I was upstairs in my room at 
the time, and when I was called and met the gentle- 
man, and informed of his errand, it caused me a serious 
thought; for I immediately saw that to rescue those 
people was no small undertaking, but instantly I began 
to act by inquiring as to where those scows were, the 
amount of ice in the bay, and why a tugboat had not 
made the rescue. To all of my questions I received 
a favorable answer with the exception as to the rescue. 
Knowing that I was rendering no assistance by asking 
questions, I lost but little time in that respect. Going 
upstairs, and calling my crew to me, I stated to them 
my opinion of action and asked for theirs. They co- 
incided with me that if assistance could be rendered 
it must be done without delay, and the only way to 
know was to go to the scene of action. I went down 
stairs and informed Mr. Britton of our willingness to 
go to Gravesend Bay if he could assist us in getting 
our surfboat there. This he said he could and would 
do if we would get her out a short distance on the 
Manhattan Boulevard, a roadway running out from 
the Oriental Hotel to a Gravesend road. I now gave 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 147 

my crew the order to get ready, and called their at- 
tention to what we might expect, and told them to 
dress warm and not be afraid to throw an extra coat 
or two in our boat; but, probably through the comfort- 
ableness of our apartments at the time, my last ad- 
monition was not heeded, as it should have been. At 
about 2:30 o'clock, p. m. (Saturday, 27th), all being in 
readiness, we started with our boat, and hauled her, 
upon her trucks, by hand over hills and railroads, until 
we reached the Boulevard, and then about one mile, 
when a horse was procured and hitched to one side of 
the pole (our truck being so arranged that a team of 
horses could be hitched before it), my crew taking 
turns on the other side — this being necessary on ac- 
count of the roughness of the road — and thus we made 
our way over rough and frozen roads to a point at 
Gravesend Bay, a distance of about eight miles. 

The sad scene now which met our gaze 
Was new and frightful in our bays. 
Off in the ice and seas so wild, 
Man was as helpless as a child. 

On reaching Gravesend Beach I saw that the bay 
from Coney Island Point (West End) across to Graves- 
end Beach was filled solid with ice, and that there was 
a large amount of floating ice being driven down by 
the fierce wind that was blowing from the Northwest 
upon that already there. Off from where we were, 
about 1^ miles in a Southwest direction, was anchored 
one of the dumping scows. As the great sea which 
was driven by the wind struck her bow its spray was 
immediately converted into ice, and her bow, through 
the freezing spray, soon had the appearance of a huge 
iceberg. On her stern, which was greatly elevated by 
the ice weighing her bow down, stood a man waving 
a signal of distress. And we all knew that unless he 
was soon rescued he would perish, if not through the 



148 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

cold, by the sinking of the scow. This had an ill 
effect upon some of my crew, for they allowed the try- 
ing scene to govern them instead of cool deliberations, 
for almost at once they began to urge me to launch our 
boat and make the attempt at rescue. I said to them 
that it would be impossible for us to reach the scow 
from where we were, and that I would get as far to 
windward as I could before I launched. With great 
impatience some of my crew continued to help draw 
our boat along the beach ; but a stone wall which pro- 
jected out from the shore soon caused me to launch. 
Knowing that I was attempting something very haz- 
ardous, I felt that it was my duty to consult my crew 
before, perhaps, sacrificing their lives in the perform- 
ance of our duty; so I called their attention to a large 
body of ice a short distance off shore and extending 
a long distance both East and West, and asked whether 
they did not think we had better row along the shore 
a short distance, which would take but little time, and 
then we would be more sure of reaching the scow and 
rescuing whoever might be on board. But some of 
my crew so emphatically objected to my advice that 
the rest of us gave way to them, and I continued my 
course. After going about 100 yards I struck in the 
ice, which proved to be harder than my crew had 
imagined. With very slow headway we finally got 
through it; but as we did, we only entered a small 
body of clear water, and was soon again obliged to 
enter the ice. This time, on entering it, I saw that by 
continuing straight for the scow I would be obliged to 
go about 100 yards through the ice; but by keeping off 
a little to leeward I would not have more than 50 yards 
of ice to go through ; and as we were set so rapidly 
while in the ice to leeward the latter course would be 
the most advantageous, so I pursued it. After getting 
through these two bodies of iee I found that we had 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 149 

been set quite some to leeward, and that it was now 
necessary to head well to windward. We found our- 
selves now out in the full force of the wind and in a 
high-wind sea ; and I knew that it was necessary for 
my crew to do their very best at their oars, so I told 
them to keep up a strong and steady stroke. We had 
not gone far, however, before I saw what our fate was 
to be, but I did not tell my crew; I continued to en- 
courage them, till they saw themselves where we were 
getting. I was now heading well to windward, and 
had been about all the time since we got out of the 
last ice, but seeing now that we were so near the solid 
body of ice, which extended from the West end of 
Coney Island Point clear across to Gravesend Beach, 
I headed sharp in the wind, but my crew could not 
hold " their own." The sea being sharp and high, we 
were slowly but surely going astern, and it was but a 
few moments before we were not more than 10 yards 
from the ice, which was acting almost as a solid em- 
bankment. The sea coming up to it would rise very 
sharp and almost break. This looked bad enough for 
us, for it did not appear possible for our boat to keep 
from filling instantly when once in it. Through the 
wind and sea it had been very hard for me to manage 
my boat, and I was now getting greatly fatigued; still, 
when one of my crew said he was completely tired 
out I told him to take the stern and I took his oar, but, 
as I might say, it was only for a moment, for steadily 
going astern we were soon in the ice. I had always 
had a good opinion of our boat in a sea, but her actions 
here caused me to admire her with a greater admira- 
tion than I had ever had for her before. Fortunately, 
we were driven a short distance in the ice, which 
cleared us from the worst of the sea. This ice, on the 
outer edge, was a sponge ice, and I am safe in saying 
that it was all of 12 feet in depth, and so thick that 



150 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

we could but just get an oar down in it. We had, 
while going out, encountered more or less drifting ice, 
and this kept constantly coming down upon us now. 
T said to my crew that we would not yet give up, but 
would try to keep out on the outer edge of the ice, for 
it might yet be possible for us to accomplish my object. 
I had a slight hope of the wind dying out a little at 
sunset, but it did not; if possible, it blew harder. At 
one time we got well out, and I had some hopes of get- 
ting clear, but soon our uttermost endeavors were fruit- 
less, and we were thrown back in the ice, where, in a 
very few moments, we were so fastened that we could 
not even move our boat. It was now getting quite 
dark, but we could see a tugboat coming towards the 
scow, and we thought perhaps she would see us. We 
were now in an Easterly direction, and about one- 
fourth of a mile from the scow, but the tugboat did 
not apparently see us, for after rescuing the man who 
was on the scow it returned to New York. This tug- 
boat, as I was afterwards informed, was sent for by a 
Mr. Furgurson, of Gravesend, who, believing that it 
would be impossible for us to live through the night 
out where we were, had sent a message to that effect; 
but the parties on the tugboat, not seeing us where they 
expected to find us, and seeing the red light on the scow, 
went to her and made the rescue of the one man, who 
was the only person on board. It might be supposed 
that the tug should have made more of a search for us, 
but I will say in her behalf that it was impossible, as 
she was then completely covered with ice, and was get- 
ting well down in the water through the amount of ice 
accumulating on her decks. While watching the tug 
taking her departure, I felt a sense of thankfulness to 
know that, even though we had failed to rescue the 
man, he had been rescued; and I did not regret my 
suffering that night when I learned that, if not directly, 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 151 

indirectly we had saved his life. When we fully real- 
ized what our position was, it was discouraging enough, 
for, as I might say, everything within and without was 
solid ice, for no quicker had a drop of water struck in 
our boat than it was ice, and there had been many 
drops to come in: but I shall always feel thankful to 
some of my crew for their lightheartedness and great 
store of mirth under the most trying circumstances. 
At the beginning I told my crew that the night would 
probably be the longest to us that we had ever wit- 
nessed, but to be of good cheer, and we would see it 
through. All through the night I held up two ways 
of escape when morning did make its appearance — one 
by tugboat, the other by the ice bearing us sufficiently 
to walk ashore on it. The latter my crew had no faith 
in. Joseph Brown, one of my crew, took to rowing, or 
going through the motion; this he kept up cheerfully 
all night, with such remarks as, "Well, Cappy, don't 
you think we are getting near the beach?" When morn- 
ing did come, "Browny" had a small mountain rowed 
up, through the ice being a little soft. My old friend, 
James W. Nolan, appeared a little downhearted through 
the night, but it seemed to be caused wholly by his re- 
membrance of a good pot of beef soup in our station — 
"If we only had that soup here! ah! boys?" One of 
my crew began to find a little fault with our situation, 
but he had uttered but a few words of discontent when 
Nolan told him that if he did not like his situation, he 
(Nolan) was sure that I would give my consent for him 
to go ashore. Nolan's words were spoken in such a 
manner as to create great laughter, and there was no 
more faultfinding. William Arend was another among 
the most jocular, and he would hardly have given a 
man time to " freeze" if he had wanted to. Some of us 
had watches with us, but we dared not venture to 
loosen our clothing to see the time, so it can be ima- 



152 THE U. s". LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

gined how thankful we were when the moon rose in 
the East, clear and bright, for we knew then it was 4 
o'clock (Sunday morning). I now tried the ice, to see 
whether it could bear me, but I was cautioned against 
bearing too much weight upon it. I found that it ap- 
peared solid, but I did not venture out upon it. Day- 
break soon making its appearance, I got out on the ice, 
and found that it held my weight and appeared very 
solid; and after walking out upon it I wanted my crew 
to make a start with me for the shore, as I knew their 
limbs were well stiffened, and the longer they remain- 
ed in the boat the worse it was for them, but they would 
not venture out yet. Finally, it getting lighter, we 
started, with our heaving-line (a small rope, with a 
piece of lead on one end, used for throwing on board a 
vessel, &c.,) stretched out, and each man having hold 
of it about 5 yards apart. After I had got my crew 
arranged in this manner, I gave the first and last man 
a boathook, and said, should any man break through 
the ice, for him to hold fast to the line, and for the 
others to use their best endeavors to haul him out. 
We had about 1-^ miles to go before reaching Graves- 
end Beach. We kept up the bay a little, believing the 
ice to be the harder. All went well until we got near 
the beach, when one of our men broke through the ice, 
but he was hauled out so quickly that his body did 
not get wet, still both of his boots were filled with 
water. Seeing the ice was poor close under the shore, 
we went a short distance to the West, where we came 
to the outer end of a long dock (Cropsey's). This dock 
being very high, made it difficult for us to get upon it, 
but by using our boathooks, driving them in the pile 
so a man could stand upon them, we managed to get 
one man up, after which we got along better until we 
came to the last man, friend Nolan, who was rather 
weighty, and, unable to climb the pile, was obliged to 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 153 

tie the heaving-line around himself, and then we hoist- 
ed him up bodily. The line being very thin, it cut 
into poor Nolan's flesh pretty well, and this he soon 
let us know, but we did not stop hauling until we 
landed him up with us, safe on the dock. We now 
started in pursuit of something to eat, which I assure 
you we were sorely in need of. After walking up the 
dock and reaching terra firma, we met a man, of whom 
we inquired for a hotel, restaurant, or any other place 
where we could get a breakfast. We were directed to 
the jovial John Bagaw, whom we soon found, and had 
actively at work. There is a great deal of material in 
John's make-up, but there was none of it idle while he 
helped his "better half" to get a breakfast for us; and 
when it was ready, what a meal it was! Well, I can 
only compare it to John himself; it portrayed his very 
nature! Did we relish our breakfast? Well, I should 
say we did, and I hardly think that John charged 
enough to get first-cost back from it. After breakfast 
we returned to our station, and on the next morning 
(Monday) went back to Gravesend Beach, where we 
procured a big wood sled and went out on the ice, cut 
our boat loose and brought her ashore, and then to our 
station, with the aid of a horse — that is, we used the 
horse after we got our boat to the upland. About the 
only injuries my crew sustained were frost bites, which 
were rather painful for a short time, I myself being 
the only one to escape. 

In addition to the above statement, I would say: had 
I been more determined in my action, and done as 
my judgment taught me, I would, in all probability, 
have reached the scow and got the man off; but it is 
very probable that we would have got his clothing wet 
in doing so, and if such had been the case he would 
have soon perished. As for ourselves, I feel positive 
that we would have lain in the ice all night, the same 



154 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

as we did, only that we would have been nearer Coney 
Island Point, which, by the way, would not have helped 
our condition any. Taking- all in consideration, I do 
not regret our undertaking or its results. I would say, 
the one of my crew who broke through the ice while 
on our way ashore was Cornelius Ver Plank. He also 
was one of the 87th New York Regiment boys, and he 
bore his mishap manfully, as he did many while in the 
army. The following I still feel grateful to for their 
kindness in going out on the ice and helping us ashore 
with our boat: Lewis Potter, George W. Ryder, Nelson 
Williams and A. W. Aumack; Thomas J. Lord, a young 
men employed at the Brighton Hotel, also went with 
us, and he, too, has my sincere thanks. 

In our opinion we had done work enough for the 
season, but that did not appear to make it so; for, on 
April 1C, 1886, at about 5:40 o'clock, a. m., my East 
patrolman reported to me that he thought there was 
a sloop ashore on the East (Rockaway) Shoals. I 
jumped up from my cot and looked through our sta- 
tion glasses, and as I did I saw a sea break against her 
stern and the spray fly well up in the air. This was 
enough. I told the patrolman to call up the crew, and 
I returned to my room and prepared for work, for the 
wind was E. S. E., fresh, which was against us, with 
quite a wind sea. As soon as I got my boots, &c, on, 
I went down stairs and began to see that every thing 
was in readiness about our boat. My crew soon being 
ready, we manned our wagon and ran the boat out on 
the beach. I had already laid out my course. It being 
high ebb tide, I could launch as quick on the bay side 
as I could on the surf side, and by launching in the 
bay I would have the tide with me and smooth water, 
which was a great advantage, not only in the bay 
(Sheepshead Bay) but it kept me to the windward, and 
gave me almost a fair tide the whole of the distance. 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 155 

All soon being ready, we launched and down the bay 
we went. Just after reaching the point of our beach, 
distance about 1£ miles, I saw that the three men who 
were on the sloop were being taken off by the yawl of 
the Two Brothers, a steamer plying between New York 
and Barren Island. After being rescued, the three men 
were placed on board the sloop Thomas Armstrong. 
These two vessels were on their way in Jamaica Bay. 
I arrived near the sloop (Lillie) which was on the 
shoals just after her crew had been placed on board 
the Armstrong and hailed them. They informed me 
that they were coming back as soon as they could get 
a vessel to come back with, and try to save what they 
could of the cargo, which was seed oysters. I now 
landed on the West end of Rockaway Beach, and with 
my crew walked to the " Rockaway Point Station," 
where a breakfast of hot biscuits and coffee was given 
us by the Rockaway boys, for which we were thankful, 
as we did not wait to get breakfast at our own station. 
Both of our crews now got in the Rockaway boat and 
came to our boat; after we had got her off, both boats 
went to the Lillie. The Lillie's crew soon returning 
with other help and two sloops, we all went to work 
and transferred the oysters from the Lillie on board 
the other two sloops, the tide falling so that it left 
but little water around the Lillie. After transferring 
the oysters, we got all of the water out of the Lillie, 
she having been filled, and at 4 o'clock, p. m., the tide 
having risen sufficient, got her off, and she was taken 
up Jamaica Bay by her owner, Capt. Henry Schmeelk, 
of Canarsie. I now returned to my station, reaching 
there 5:20 o'clock p. m., having performed a hard day's 
work, with no dinner, but thankful that we had ren- 
dered all the assistance which was possible for us to 
do. Fortunately, the sloop Lillie was injured but very 
little, and we saved the most of her cargo. Among 



156 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

my crew again were the three willing and jovial boys, 
viz., Nolan, Brown and Arend. This was the end of 
our season's work, and we were all thankful. 

May 1, 1886, the active season being over, my crew 
took their departure for their respective homes. This 
left me alone, the order now being that all keepers 
should remain throughout the whole of the year in 
their stations, but their families had the privilege of 
being with them during the inactive season; still, it 
was only convenient for a part of my family to be with 
me, and then only at times. This left me alone a great 
deal. September 1st, 1886, my crew again entered upon 
active duty, but there were two of my old crew whom 
I greatly missed, Nolan and Brown, they having got 
in such employment that they did not wish to leave it. 
[Copiea I from my Station Journal^ 

Sept. 10, 1886. — At about 6 o'clock, a. m., I launched 
our surfboat for practice, and when about half a mile 
off shore I noticed a small steamboat aground on the 
East Shoals (East side of Rockaway Inlet). I imme- 
diately headed n\y boat and rowed towards her, but, 
on reaching the North end of the West Bar, about 2 
miles from my station, I saw the Rockaway Point Sta- 
tion crew leaving the steamer, and as they landed at 
the point of Rockaway Beach and returned to their 
station, and as no assistance could be rendered the 
steamer — which was the Franklin Edson — until the 
next high tide, I returned to my station, and retained 
my whole crew at the station, and even at sunset I did 
not let my two patrols go out, as I did not know but 
what I would need them to go with me to deliver a 
message from General Shaler, of the Health Depart- 
ment of the City of New York, to the Rockaway Point 
crew, or to go to the assistance of the Edson; but near 
high water she was towed off by a tug that was sent 
for the purpose. I watched her until she got to the 
West end of Coney Island Beach, and saw that she was 
being towed nicely. It was then 7 o'clock, p. m. The 
Edson had been out with a party of excursionists the 
day before (the 0th,) to witness the international yacht 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 157 

race, and, the weather turning out very foggy, had, 
while returning, got aground on the shoals. At 8.30 
o'clock, p. m., the West patrol of Rockaway Point Station 
reported her signals of distress (whistles) to his station. 
The crew immediately got ready and went to her as- 
sistance. There was a dense fog prevailing at the 
time, but the crew boarded the steamer, and by making 
two trips landed her passengers at the point of the 
beach (Rockaway), 21, I believe, in all. The steamer's 
crew remained on board all night. When I saw the 
Rockaway crew leaving the Edson the next morning 
they had taken provisions to the steamer's crew. The 
Edson was aground about 200 yards off shore from 
where the Lillie got on the shoals, the Llllie also get- 
ting on during a heavy fog. This was about 2- 1 miles 
from my station. The next day, one of my East pa- 
trolmen said to me that he believed he had heard the 
Edson's whistle, but hearing it only once, and that very 
faint, he had believed that it was a whistle on Rocka- 
way Beach. 

May 1, 188T. — By order, I forwarded the following 
for the year ending June 30, 1887: 

Number of surfboat drills 89 

" apparatus drills 43 

signal drills (53 

" resuscitation lessons 0-4 

I might say here that we (my crew) were given credit 
for standing " No. 1" in our district (3rd) for drills, &c. 

July 10, 1887. — I assisted in carrying up on the 
beach the remains of an unknown man who had drifted 
in upon the beach. The Manhattan Beach Police took 
charge of the body. 

A TERRIBLE SHOWER AND SQUALL. 

July 17, 1887. — At 12.15 o'clock, p. m., I was about 
150 yards East of my station, when a heavy shower 
was near, and I noticed a small sloop yacht about one 
mile off shore, in a Southeast direction from my sta- 
tion. I saw her crew take in her jib and mainsail, but 
they could not get her topsail down; and while one of 
her crew was about halfway up her rigging, trying to 



158 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

get it down, the first part of the squall struck her. 
Feeling quite sure as to her fate, I ran to my station 
and went upstairs, but the rain and dust were so dense 
now that I could see hardly 50 yards off shore. After 
waiting about ten minutes I could dimly see, with my 
station glasses, an object off in the direction where I 
had seen the yacht. From the appearance, I felt sure 
that it was the yacht capsized. Now there I was, with 
a noble surfboat in my house, but no crew to man her; 
still, I had already decided upon my course of action. 
I immediately ran.about a quarter of a mile to the West, 
where there was a bathing pavilion. I hailed one of 
the " swimmers," who was out in a small boat, and 
told him there was a yacht capsized off near the West 
Shoals, and asked him to come ashore and get me, and 
if he would, he could go off to her with me, or other- 
wise I would like for him to let me have a small boat, 
that I might go off myself. The swimmer looked in 
the direction that I had named, and said that he could 
not see any boat off there. I told that 1 knew there 
was one, and that I did not want to lose any time. At 
this another swimmer got into the boat with him, and 
they said they would go off. They asked me to point 
out the direction for them to row. I did so, and then 
said that they had better take me with them; but they 
answered that they would soon row off. In all prob- 
ability, they knowing each other and not knowing me, 
they preferred going together, and for three of us to 
have gone would, in fact, have been too many. The 
shower and squall, although very severe, passing over 
quickly, and it becoming very calm, was fortunate for 
those who were clinging to a very small portion of 
their boat which remained out of water; and it was 
well that I got assistance to them as soon as I did, for 
they could not have " held out " much longer. There 
was one of them who could not swim any; the other 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 159 

two could swim a little under ordinary circumstances, 
but clinging to their boat, as they had, with the water 
constantly flying over them and the cold rain pouring 
down upon them, they were rescued almost helpless. 
After they were brought ashore I took them to my 
station and gave them dry clothing from those placed 
in my station by the Women's National Relief Asso- 
ciation. After getting dry clothing on and drinking 
some hot coffee, which I made for them, they soon 
began to feel like themselves again. It being flood 
tide and the wind ceasing to blow, the yacht (Monai- 
tipee) drifted in the bay, and was picked up and cared 
for. The three young men remained all night with 
me, and the next day returned to their homes in Brook- 
lyn, thankful that their accident had not resulted any 
worse than it did. 

September 1, 1887 — Entered again upon another ac- 
tive season. All now went smoothly and fortune ap- 
peared to smile upon us, until the great "blizzard," — 
and a blizzard it was — which came upon us on the 12th 
of March, 1888 (Monday), The weather had been, the 
day before (11th), as follows, and the surf at our beach 
as named : 

[Copied from my Log.\ 
Midnight: Wind S. E., light, weather clear, surf smooth. 
Sunrise: Wind S. E., light, weather clear, surf smooth. 
Noon: Wind S. E., fresh, weather cloudy, surf smooth. 
Sunset: Wind S. E., fresh, weather light rain, surf 
moderate. 

Wind, Weather, erv., Ylth {Monday) 
Midnight : Wind N. E., fresh, weather raining, surf 

moderate. 
Sunrise: Wind N. E. fresh, weather snowing, surf 

moderate. 
Noon: Wind N. W., gale, weather snowing, surf mod- 
erate. 
Sunset: Wind N. W., gale, weather snowing, surf mod- 
erate. 



160 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

Windy Weather, &*c, 13/7/ ( Tuesday). 
Midnight: Wind N. W., gale, weather snowing, surf 

moderate. 
Sunrise: Wind N. W., gale, weather cloudy, surf mod- 
erate. 
Noon : Wind N. W., fresh, weather cloudy, surf moderate. 
Sunset: Wind N. W., fresh, weather light snow, surf 
smooth. 
At 0:15 o'clock, a. m., Monday (12th), Frank E. Ford, 
who was on patrol West, from 4 to sunrise, a. m., after, 
returning from his patrol reported to me that the snow 
was then deep, and that the storm was very severe; 
and that he feared that something had happened to 
William Arend, who was the East patrolman from 4 to 
sunrise, a. m. I immediately jumped up and was but a 
few moments in getting dressed and out on the beach 
with Ford in search of Arend; but we did not go far 
before we met him, and I could only compare his ap- 
pearance to the snow men I helped to make when a 
boy. The snow had that moisture about it that when 
it once fell upon an object it stayed there. After 
meeting Arend, we all returned to our station. Al- 
though I had been out in the storm but a short time, 
T had been out long enough to see that it was some- 
thing unusual, and its indications foreshadowed a 
storm to surpass any that I had ever witnessed, and I 
looked forward with anxiety to see its extent. All 
through the day my crew and myself often looked out 
of our boat room doors, but so dense was the falling 
snow that we could not see more than ten yards from 
us. The storm being such it did not appear safe to 
send a man out on the beach. Still, I feared there 
might have been some one out in the bay, and seeing 
how severe the storm was getting, had made their way 
toward our beach with the hope of reaching our sta- 
tion. This thought became so prominent in my mind 
that I proposed to Arend, who I know was always 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 161 

ready for any adventure, that we go out on the beach 
and see the extefit of the storm. After my proposition 
we were not long in getting ready. The undertaking 
was considered not only hazardous, but foolish by my 
crew, for, said they, "a vessel could not get on our 
beach if she tried, and there was no danger of us meet- 
ing any one on the beach." Still, I did not feel satis- 
fied, sitting in our comfortable quarters, with the 
thought that there might be some poor unfortunate 
out on our beach. When Arend and I left the station 
we went out from the front, but we had not gone more 
than 15 yards when we found it was impossible to go 
farther in that direction, and it was very difficult for 
us to retrace our steps. Still, we did. After getting 
back to our station we started again, but this time 
took a course that led over the highest hills. The dis- 
tance from our station to the surf was about 150 yards, 
and before reaching the surf we were obliged to rest 
many times. The snow we found to be the worst to 
travel through that we had ever seen. We would sink 
in it at times so deep that we were obliged to lie down 
and crawl out, and this was not easy to do, either. 
After reaching the surf we hardly knew whether to 
venture farther or not, for the whole of our way to 
the surf had only been accomplished by a thorough 
knowledge of every hill in our vicinity, for we could 
not see even ten yards from us. After reaching the 
surf we went up on the beach a short distance, but 
found it impossible to walk there; in the edge of the 
surf was the only place that we could walk, and even 
there it was none too easy, but we decided to go a short 
distance to the East ; so, with the Northwest gale at 
our backs, we started. We were soon reminded, how- 
ever, that we were like a man walking in total dark- 
ness. We cor.ld see to keep the edge of the surf, and 
that was about all we could see. We walked for some 



162 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

time before the wind, but how far we went neither of 
us ever knew; we only knew that we went too far 
when we came to walk back, for it appeared that we 
would never reach the bulkhead, at which place, when 
we did reach it, we turned up on the beach, and then 
followed a ridge of hills to our station. Even our sta- 
tion we could not see until we got within about 15 
yards of it. When we got into our station our eyes 
were nearly closed by the ice making to our eye-lashes 
and eyebrows; in fact our faces were completely coated 
with ice, but not so hard but what it would break and 
chip off quite easily, but that upon our eyebrows and 
lashes was like hard icicles, which we were obliged to 
wait some time before they would thaw off by a hot 
stove. After a good rest and getting our dinner, Arend 
and myself again started— this time to the West. Af- 
ter going about half a mile we returned. We found 
the snow very deep all over; but in places where it 
had drifted it was something wonderful. In front of 
the entrance to the Oriental Hotel it was fully 20 feet 
in height. At 5 o'clock, p. m., the storm was yet con- 
tinuing its wild freak, but I wanted, if possible, to 
make both patrols (East and West), or as much of them 
as I could, so I took three surfmen with me to the 
East and sent my No. 1, Abraham S. Mathews, a trust- 
worthy man, to the West, with orders not to venture 
too far beyond the Manhattan Hotel. Mathews had 
two surfmen with him. When I left my station, I and 
my associates left prepared to remain out all night. 
There was an unoccupied building at the East end of 
our beach, about 1£ miles from our station, at which 
place, if we could not get back, we intended to stay; 
so I told the one man whom I left in the station not to 
be worried if we did not return. We found, after get- 
ting on the beach, that we yet were obliged to walk in 
the edge of the surf. The storm was yet raging and 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 163 

the wind blowing a gale, but away we started, with the 
wind almost sending us on a run or down in the surf. 

Ah, what a night along our shore ! 
Nought to hear but the storm's great roar; 
Nought to see but the splashing wave, 
As with the snow it then did rave. 

After having been carried some distance to the East, 
along our beach, by the fierce gale, we all began to 
realize that it required determination to accomplish 
our undertaking, and that it was no mere pleasure trip; 
and it was very doubtful whether we could all endure 
the fatigue of returning. But finally our thoughts 
were turned from our real object and further medita- 
tions by a wild duck jumping up almost from under 
our feet; but it being so unexpected, we all stood still, 
and, after it had got out of our reach, said how easily 
we might have caught it. After going a few steps 
farther, another got up, and then another, and so on 
until we got near the east end of our beach. At the 
getting up of each one of these birds there was a great 
" charge" made upon them, but always ended by the 
most of us tripping and going .head first in the snow, 
and, if we got our heads out quick enough, in seeing 
the duck out of our reach. Those who were fortunate 
enough to keep upon their feet always had many "ifs." 
"Why, I could have reached him easy enough, only 
for your tumbling," and like expressions were often 
heard, which only made the merriment greater. These 
wild birds had probably been off to sea, but the storm 
being so severe, they, while returning, became so fa- 
tigued that they were thankful for any resting place 
that they could get. On our return we were obliged 
to stop and turn our backs to the wind many times; 
still, although we were a long time in doing it, we 
managed to get back to our station. Our West patrol 
also got back safe after going the full patrol, aboul 1^ 



164 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

miles. Our patrol safes being completely snowed 
under, the next day, during the afternoon, we dug 
them out, and then renewed our regular patrols; but 
it was some few days before we could leave our beach. 
For three or four days the watchman at the Oriental 
Hotel was unable to get home, at Sheapshead Bay, but 
fortunately we had a very good supply of provisions 
in, so he was well cared for. 

April 10, 1888— The Rockaway Point Station crew 
brought Superintendent Arthur Dominy over to my 
station, and while they were returning, and at about 
2:20 o'clock, p. m., boarded the schooner P. S. Lindsay, 
of Squan, N. J., which had just got on the West Shoals 
of Rockaway Inlet. The Rockaway crew, seeing that 
the wind was rapidly increasing from the Southeast, 
advised the schooner's crew to leave her, which they 
did. The wind and sea both increasing with great 
rapidity, the waves were soon breaking all over the 
Lindsay, and at G o'clock, p. m., the wind having 
reached the force of a gale, rolled up huge billows, and 
sent them with such force against the broadside of the 
Lindsay that she was soon a total wreck. While watch- 
ing her, it was a grand sight. The sea, striking her 
side, would fly almost in a solid body fully half way 
to her masthead. We could see now how fortunate 
the crew were in leaving her as early as they did. 
The Lindsay's tonnage was probably about 150 tons. 

April 14, 1888— At 2:30 o'clock, a. m., Abraham S. 
Mathews, patrolman, called my attention to, as he be- 
lieved, a steamer on our West Shoals. Upon looking, 
I saw, by ranges that I had, that she was just to the 
West of our shoals. At 5 o'clock, a. m., William Biggs, 
patrolman, reported to me that he feared there was a 
vessel on our West Shoals. On looking this time I 
saw that it was the same vessel that Mathews had 
called my attention to, and that it was a tugboat with 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 165 

two dumping-scows, and that they were just to the 
West of our Shoals. Shortly after, I saw the tugboat 
leave the scows and go towards New York. The wind 
soon working around to about South, and breezing up 
pretty fresh, and the flood tide beginning to run 
strong, caused the two scows to drag their anchor 
(they having but one anchor for the two scows) along 
our shoals in towards our beach, but when they got near 
the North point of our shoals (West Dry Bar), the tug 
Dean of Barren Island went to them and towed one to 
Barren Island. The other one now held to her anchor; 
but the wind finally working around to the Southwest, 
swung her in upon the shoals. Fortunately there was 
no great ground (swell) sea or break; still, the wind 
beginning to blow fresh, made somewhat of a wind 
sea. When I saw the turn the wind had taken I was 
about to board the scow, but just as I was thinking of 
doing so, a gentleman from a towing company of New 
York City called at my station and requested me, if I 
could, to take him where he could get a small tug to 
tow the scow off. I immediately manned and launched 
our surfboat and took him to Barren Island, where he 
made arrangements with Arthur McAvoy, captain of 
the tug Edith Peck, to tow the scow off on the evening 
high tide, after which I returned to the East end of 
our beach; but while returning, what a shower over- 
took us. At first the rain poured down with its might- 
iest power, and then hail began to fall; a fresh North- 
west wind was now also blowing, which added greatly 
to our discomfort, but my crew remained at their 
oars, with the rain at first, and then the cutting hail, 
beating down upon their bare hands, without a mur- 
mur. I asked them whether I had not better board a 
schooner which we passed by until the shower abated 
somewhat, but they said no, as they knew I wanted to 
take advantage of the last of the ebb tide. After 



166 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

reaching- the point of our beach, the gentleman (a 
captain of a tugboat) that I had taken to Barren Island 
said as I was going off to the scow he would go with 
me. After boarding the scow I informed the two men 
who were on board that I expected to board them 
again on the coming high water with a tug to try and 
tow them off; but should they need any assistance at 
any time, to show a signal. I now returned to my 
station, reaching there at 5:30 oclock, p. m. At 7:30, 
p. m., I again left my station, with my crew, and tak- 
ing the tugboat captain with us, went to Barren Island. 
After waiting some time, Captain McAvoy said as the 
wind was blowing so hard, and there was quite a sea 
at the shoals, he would not go and run the risk of 
losing his own boat in trying to get the scow off. The 
wind now was Southwest, fresh, and the night was 
dark, but I returned to my station, although my crew 
had a hard pull of it, as there was a sharp wind sea, 
with the head wind. We arrived at our station at 
about 11 o'clock, p. m. The next morning (Sunday, 
15th), at about 7:30 o'clock, a. m., in accordance with 
the arrangements previously made, I again left my 
station and boarded the scow, and soon had the tug- 
boat Peck, of Barren Island, and America, of New 
York, with me. As the tide was high, the Peck ran a 
hawser for the America, who soon towed the scow off. 
I now returned to my station, reaching there about 
9:20 o'clock, a. m. — distance from my station to Barren 
Island, where we went, about 2} miles, and from my 
station to where the scow was, on the shoals, about 1-J 
miles. These dumping-scows are valued at from $4,000 
to $5,000, and are used for conveying garbage from the 
City of New York out to sea. They are towed by tug- 
boats. ' The tugboat captain whom I took to Barren 
Island and to the scow, appreciated our services so 
highly that he made my crew and myself a present of 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 1G7 

§"20. This was something not looked for; still, it was 
very acceptable. 

June 11, 1888 — Received from Mr. Edmund Morris, 
of Gravesend, a skiff that by my request I had been 
authorized to have built for the U. S. L. S. S., at my 
station. I had, from the first of my keepership, asked 
for a small boat that I could manage alone; but the 
head authorities could not see the necessity of my 
having such a boat until the capsizing of the Monai- 
tipee (July 17, 1887). Messrs. Hopping and Topping, 
house movers, came to my station for the purpose of 
moving it about one mile to the East. 

July 4, 1888 — I rescued two men with my U. S. L. 
S. S. skiff, who were clinging to their capsized boat in 
Sheepshead Bay, near the inlet. 

July 30, 1888 — During the afternoon, and at high 
ebb tide, with the wand blowing fresh from the South- 
ward, I saw a small pleasure yacht get knocked down 
on her beam-end, across the tide in Johnson's Inlet. 
She also had the gaff of her sail on one side of her 
mast and her boom on the other. I at this time was 
with my son Frankie, aged eight years, in my inactive 
season skiff (U. S. L. S. S. skiff), at the point of our 
(Manhattan) beach. Seeing the sad and dangerous 
predicament they were in, I hastened to their relief. 
While rowing out against the wind and sea my little 
boat was pitched and tossed pretty well, and I feared 
my little son, whom I did not take time to put out on 
the beach, would become frightened; so I said to him, 
to sit still, and it w r ould be fine sport for him to be a 
Life Saving Captain. Although he tried to be pleased 
with his situation, still I could see him eye each wave 
and tighten his hold upon the boat as it struck her, 
and dodge his head as the spray flew over; yet he 
hardly said a word, but tried to look pleased upon the 
scene. On arriving at the yacht I asked whether the 



1G8 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

lady — there being - one lady and two gentlemen on 
board — had not better get in my boat, and as I did, the 
lady expressed a desire to do so. After getting her in 
ray boat and seated by my son, which greatly pleased 
him, I advised the gentlemen how to act, and they soon 
got their boat headed up in the wind and their sail in 
its proper place. I now rowed to the point of our beach, 
where the young lady and my son got out of my boat. 
As they got out upon the beach, I looked around just 
in time to see the yacht capsize. I now hastened to 
their rescue, and after an hour or more hard labor, and 
getting all of my clothing completely wet through, I 
got them and their boat to the beach, where the boat 
was righted, freed of water, and with her party taken 
up the bay by another yacht. Without my knowledge 
at the time, they gave my son a dollar bill — that was a 
fortune to him — they then wanted to pay me for my 
trouble, but I would not take any pay from them. 

August 11, 1888 — The house movers completed the 
moving of my station, which was 1 mile and 90 feet 
East of its old site. On this date, also, the Inspector, 
who had charge of the moving of my station, and my- 
self measured the distance from the front sill of my 
station out directly in front to ordinary high water 
mark, and found it to be 244 feet. 

August 13, 1888 — At about 5 o'clock, p. m., I saw a 
yacht with a party of four aged people (three ladies 
and one gentleman) get aground near Sheepsheads 
Bay Inlet. I boarded the yacht in my "Inactive Season 
Skiff," and found the party very anxious to get ashore, 
out of the stormy and chilly wind which was blowing 
at the time. Knowing that they would be obliged to 
remain there until 8 o'clock, or later, if they waited 
for the yacht to float, I took them in my skiff and 
rowed them, against a very strong wind and tide, more 
than a mile distant, to Sheepshead Bay Village. The 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 109 

gentleman insisted upon me taking pay for my labor, 
but I refused; still, he managed to leave me some pay, 
saying that I could " lay in a few cigars to smoke at 
leisure times." After returning, I assisted the captain 
in getting the yacht off when the tide rose sufficient, 
which was about 8:30 o'clock, p. m. 

August 17, 1888 — Messrs. Hopping and Topping took 
their departure, they having completed their contract 
of moving my station and its appurtenances. 

September 1, 1888 — Entered upon another active sea- 
son. Again another of my best surfmen staying out, 
Abraham S. Mathews, he finding employment that paid 
him as well and suited him better, but the season I 
am proud of. 

A season crowned with grand success, 
Surfmen with honors no less. 
They dared the storms and seas so bold, 
And saved all — the young and old. 

September 2, 1888 — At about 8 o'clock, p. m., it being 
very foggy, but calm, I heard a voice off shore calling 
for assistance. With Arend and Harris, of my crew, 
I went off to them in my inactive season skiff. I found 
there were two men in a small sailboat, and through 
the fog the}- had lost their way, and were being carried 
out by the tide. We towed them in to the beach, and 
then around into Sheepshead Bay, where we secured 
their boat and took the two men to our station, where 
they remained all night, and went off on their journey 
rejoicing the next morning. 

September 3, 1888 — At 9 o'clock, a. m., as I was row- 
ing in my inactive season skiff out of Sheepshead Bay 
Inlet, I saw a yacht, with a fishing party on board, 
aground on the inner shoals. I continued out and 
went to them. After carrying an anchor off, and in 
other ways trying to get the yacht off, but failed, by 
request of the party, I took them — four gentlemen — to 



170 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

our beach, from which place they walked to the Man- 
hattan train and returned home, thankful that they 
had escaped the tedious task of remaining on board 
aground the greater part of the day, as it was high ebb 
tide when their boat got aground. 

September 12, 1888 — Just after sunset, Joseph Harris, 
of my crew, called my attention to a gentleman on 
board a small sailboat in Sheepshead Bay, near the 
inlet. Harris had assisted the gentleman for some 
distance while returning from day leave. Seeing there 
was a heavy shower raising in the West, and that the 
gentleman was not making any headway with his boat 
against the tide, and, unless assisted, in all probability 
would remain out all night, and probably meet with 
some accident, I launched my inactive season skiff, 
and with Arend, one of my crew, rowed around in the 
bay, secured the man's boat and brought him to the 
point of our beach, where we landed and left our boat, 
as it was now getting quite dark, and we found it very 
"rough" (a big sea) while rowing around into the bay. 
After securing our boat we went to our station, from 
which place the gentleman walked with one of my pa- 
trolmen to the Manhattan Hotel. As the night soon 
turned out very bad, the wind blowing hard, with a 
heavy rain, and continuing so the greater part of 
the night, the gentleman afterwards expressed again , 
his sincere thanks for having been spared its severe 
pangs. 

September 17, 1888 — At about 7:30 o'clock, p.m., the 
weather being stormy, two men in a small sloop-rigged 
yacht got aground on the East end of our beach, while 
coming in the inlet. As the tide was going out, and 
their boat soon getting hard aground, they threw over 
their anchor and started to walk to our station; but 
before reaching the station they were met by my East 
patrolman, who came back with them. On their ar- 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 171 

riving I saw the two men's clothing- was wet through, 
and that they themselves were greatly chilled. I im- 
mediately gave them hot coffee — our remedy for nearly 
all complaints— and something to eat, and went to 
work drying their clothing. After they had got to 
feeling pretty comfortable, they, in company with my 
West patrolman, went to the Manhattan Hotel. The 
two men then crossed over to Sheepshead Bay Village. 
My East patrolman kept a lookout for their boat 
through the night. The next day they came and got 
her. 

September 21, 1888 — At 4 o'clock, p. m., I noticed 
what looked to be a capsized boat at the point of 
Rockaway Beach, with a sloop-rigged boat by her. 
Thinking that I might render some assistance, I 
launched my surfboat and went to her. On my ar- 
rival I learned that the capsized boat was the yacht 
Jennie Havemeyer, and that she had capsized outside 
of the East Shoals, and that her crew of two men had 
been picked up by Adam Carman, a fisherman of Ca- 
narsie, and the Havemeyer had been towed in to the 
point of the beach. I then, with the Rockaway Point 
crew, helped to get her up out of danger; after which, 
there being nothing else that I could do. returned to 
my station, reaching there at 8 o'clock, p. m. Distance 
from my station to the point of Rockaway Beach, 
about H miles. 

September 25, 1888 — At 1 o'clock, p. m., I saw a small 
boat, with two men in her, on the East side of Rocka- 
way Inlet, and from all appearances they were about 
to be carried out through the break, which was high. 
I immediately launched my surfboat and rowed off 
towards them, but on reaching the West Dry Bar, dis- 
tance about 1 mile from my station, I saw that they 
had got back out of danger. After waiting a short 



172 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

time at the bar, to make sure that they were safe, I 
returned to my station. 

September 25, 1888 — At about 5:45 o'clock, a. m., 
Joseph Harris, patrolman, called my attention to a 
sloop on the West Shoals of Rockaway Inlet. As she 
was lying well aground and easy, I allowed my crew 
to get their breakfast, and then told them to take 
something to eat and drink with them, as it would 
very likely be late before we got back. At about 7 
o'clock, a. m., I boarded the sloop, and found it to be 
the Mystery, of Canarsie, with no one on board but her 
owner, who said that he had been, as he believed, on 
the shoals most of the night. As he had not eaten or 
drank anything since early the day before, our visit to 
him with provisions was welcomed. As he had no 
bedding or anything whereby he could make himself 
comfortable in the cabin, the night must have been a 
dreary one to him. After I boarded him some of my 
crew fixed up an old stove that he had on board, and 
soon got him hot coffee, which, with some sandwiches 
which we had taken, he greatly relished. We carried 
an anchor off, but were obliged to wait until 11:30 
o'clock, a. m., before we could heave the sloop off, at 
which time there was a strong Northwest wind, which 
was against us in getting off; but fortunately there was 
no great sea. After getting the Mystery off the shoals 
we found that she had not been seriously injured, but 
we remained on board, towing our surfboat, until we 
got to Barren Island, and then I allowed one of my 
crew to go to Canarsie on board of the Mystery, with 
her owner; the rest of my crew and myself now re- 
turned to our station, reaching there at 3 o'clock, p. m. 

October 12, 1888 — At 5 o'clock, a. m., my patrolman 
reported to me that there was a schooner on our West 
Shoals. I immediately jumped up out of my bed, and 
on looking saw that we had a hard piece of work to 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 173 

perform, if it was even possible for us to perform it. 
I called my crew up and allowed them to get their 
breakfast, which took but little time, and which I knew 
would greatly aid them in the performance of their 
hazardous duty. I now launched my surfboat, and 
although there was no signal of distress, or person on 
board to be seen, still I could not see how it had been 
possible for the crew to have made their escape. After 
I got off shore about three hundred yards, I saw that it 
was necessary for me to change my " plans of opera- 
tion" — for I was being carried too far to leeward — in 
order that I might know for a certainty what the result 
would be by continuing. I had urged my crew to use 
their utmost ability, which they did. On heading my 
boat back towards our beach, I informed my crew what 
my intentions now were, and that was to go to Barren 
Island and get a tugboat to tow me off. After getting 
back under our beach, and while crossing over to Bar- 
ren Island, we had comparatively smooth water; yet 
it was all that my crew could do to row against the 
East wind, and there was continuously a heavy fall of 
rain. On reaching Barren Island, I learned that the 
two tugs which belonged there had both gone to Ca- 
narsie. The storm was now raging, and it was only 
at times that I could see the schooner, but I was de- 
termined to use every effort to get off to her. I now 
returned to the point of our beach, intending to try 
and get a boat at Sheepshead Bay to take me off; but 
just as I landed, I saw the little schooner smack, S. 
Greenwood, like an angel sent from Heaven, standing 
in, all reefed down, toward our beach. I now manned 
our boat again and ran off, having the wind with us, 
to the Greenwood. On reaching her, I was informed 
that the crew of the schooner on the shoals was cling- 
ing in her starboard rigging. I now threw a line to 
Capt. Greenwood, and asked him to tow me off, which 



174 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

he did to within about half a mile of the wreck (Rich- 
ard Morrell). On leaving - the schooner Greenwood I 
had the wind against me, but I again appeared to be 
favored, for the wind lulled a little. I now cautioned 
my crew against overexertion, saying that when we 
got in the break would be the time they would need 
all of their strength. I also told them that on reach- 
ing the break I would be careful to select the best 
possible place to enter. On arriving at the edge of the 
shoals, it is true the scene was exciting*; for in through 
the " cobble" break, at the distance of about 200 yards, 
lay the Morrell, with her crew of five men in her star- 
board main rigging, and with a tremendous high break 
coming in from the East, which was fast demolishing 
the forepart of the schooner. Taking the best course 
that I could see, and feeling sure that if I could get 
in to the schooner's stern I could lay there long- enough 
to get her crew, I started, and said to my crew for 
them to stick to their oars and do the best they could, 
and that I felt sure we could reach the schooner. This 
cobble break was a big lumpy sea, heaving in around 
the shoals from the Southwest, while my course to the 
schooner was nearly East, and in this way only could 
I reach the Morrell. I had not gone far, however, 
before it looked as though we were doomed for fully 
as bad a fate as those on the schooner, but I gave no 
thought of turning back. I continued to encourage 
my crew, who were doing nobly. When we were about 
half way to the schooner, after entering the break, we 
met with our worst trouble. I had three seas to watch. 
There was one which was very large, and I knew that 
it would strike me heavy; but by heading towards one 
which was coming in towards my starboard fore- 
quarter, would cause the former to strike well aft, and 
glancing, and after passing these two, I felt that I 
could then turn and meet the one comin»- in from the 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 175 

East. When the one that I looked for to strike the 
after part of my boat curled up, it looked as though it 
could not help but bury us, so sharp was it that its top 
was not more than five feet offshore from us, but 
loomed up above my head about six feet. I was on my 
knees on the stern of my boat steering, as to have 
stood up would have been impossible. AVhen this sea 
did strike, it struck with such force that it appeared 
for the moment that our boat was completely broken 
to pieces; the stern part of our boat was for the in- 
stant buried, and when the sea passed over it, it was with 
some surprise that I saw our boat was yet whole. My 
No. 1 man (Arend) who rowed aft, got the full force 
of the sea, as I did, but he stuck to his oar like a man, 
even though he was completely buried. I suppose we 
took in about three barrels of water of this sea ; but 
there was no time for a thought but the one. My 
eyes had hardly freed themselves of water when 
we met the next sea; still, being heade r1 right, our 
gallant boat nobly rose and passed over it, yet not 
without making its top fly well over us. After this 
sea I squared for the Morrell, and my crew gave way 
with a will, and after meeting and passing nicely over 
two or three seas coming in from the East, I told my 
bow oarsman to take in his oar and get our cable ready 
for heaving, which he did, and when we got near the 
schooner's stern threw it to one of the schooner's crew, 
who had got aft. After our cable had been made fast 
on the Morrell, I saw that it required considerable 
skill yet to complete our work successfully. The heavy 
sea which was heaving in from the E., or E. S. E., would 
break when it got about midships of the schooner, and 
coming back with such force that I was obliged to pay 
out on my cable and drop a short distance astern of 
the schooner, and then watch my chance to get back 
to her and get one of her crew. As thev were so stif- 



176 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

fened up, at times I would have to drop back several 
times before even getting one. A great obstacle to 
my progress was the schooner's yawl, which was bot- 
tom up, but made fast to the schooner's stern. This 
kept two of my crew busy with boat-hooks to prevent 
our boat from getting against her and being stove to 
pieces. Finally, getting all of the Morrell's crew in 
my boat, I gave my bow oarsman (Frank E. Ford) the 
order to stand ready to cut our cable when I said for 
him to do so. As soon as a favorable opportunity pre- 
sented itself I gave the order to cut, and with one 
unerring stroke of our boat-hatchet our cable was 
severed clear and clean by my bowman (Ford), and 
we were again to battle the " lumpy water" and ocean 
swells. We had already got most of the water out of 
our boat, which altogether amounted to considerable. 
After our cable had been severed I gave the order to 
back water — shove back on the oars — and at the same 
time I kept my boat's bow at .the incoming sea. After 
getting back a short distance, and at a favorable op- 
portunity, I gave the order for the starboard oars to 
give way, and the port oars to back, which turned my 
boat very quickly. After being turned, I sang out for 
all to give way with a will, which my crew nobly did. 
Fortunately, in coming out we encountered but a few 
bad seas, and were not long in running off before the 
wind to the Greenwood, who waited for us, and towed 
ks back to within about £ of a mile of our station, from 
where we rowed and landed the rescued at our beach, 
all alive but much exhausted. One of the crew we 
were obliged to partly carry to our station, the rest 
managed to walk unaide:!. The schooner Richard 
Morrell had dragged her anchor during the night, 
while the wind was blowing almost a gale from the 
Northeast, from the point of Rockaway Beach across 
the inlet, and on the West Shoals, South, about 2] miles 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 17? 




RETURNING-. 



178 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

from my station. The crew had been obliged to seek 
the rigging" for safety at about 3:30 o'clock, a. m., and 
it was about 9 o'clock, a m., before I could rescue them. 
Apparently they had not given it a thought to hoist a 
signal of distress (anything hoisted in the rigging to 
attract attention), and they being aft in the starboard 
rigging (the schooner heading East), with a portion of 
their mainsail loose, completely hid them from my 
view. After getting them to my station, which was at 
10:30 o'clock, a. m., I soon had dry clothing on them 
(from those furnished by the W. N. R. A.) and gave 
them something warm to eat and drink. During the 
afternoon they had so far recovered that they were 
able to take a late train from Manhattan Beach to the 
city. The schooner Morrell, when I boarded her, was 
all stove in forward, and was soon after a total wreck. 
The following members of my crew, I think, proved 
themselves, upon this occasion, to be worthy of men- 
tion fully as much as any that ever went in a surf- 
boat: William Arend, Abram K. Tice, Frank E. Ford, 
Joseph Harris, and William H. Thomas, Jr. 

October 17, 1888— This time a more pleasant trip. 
At 7 o'clock, a. m., I saw the tugboat W. H. Bentley, of 
New York, having in tow the. schooner Hattie Dunn, 
tonnage (net) 213 90-100, get aground on our shoals, 
Southeast, about one mile from my station. It being 
high ebb tide, I knew there was no time to be lost if 
the tug was to be got off and the schooner prevented 
from getting on. So I immediately called for my crew 
to man our boat, and it did not take us long in getting 
off to the tug. I was about to go after another tug to 
tow the schooner up when the Bentley, which had 
been freed of all her water, showed signs of working 
back, and after a little time, but with great exertions, 
got off the shoals. I now, with my crew, staid with 
the tug and piloted her to Barren Island, where she 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 179 

was bound with the schooner Dunn. I returned to 
my station at 10 o'clock, a. m. 

Oct. 28, 1888 (Sunday) — A creditable piece of work, 
which surely saved two lives from the " deep." During 
the latter part of the afternoon of this date a heavy 
squall came out from the N.W. All of my crew being 
present at our station, we eagerly watched the passing 
vessels as the squall struck them, and noted the havoc 
done. One sloop had her mainsail completely torn 
out of its ropes ; others ran before the wind under 
bare poles (spars), with their sails whipped to threads; 
but the one which attracted our attention most was a 
pleasure yacht, having on board ten or twelve gentle- 
men. As the first of the squall struck her, the jib was 
lowered, and she was allowed to come up in the wind, 
but while doing so she was nearly capsized. Just as 
she got up in the wind the heaviest of the squall was 
upon her. This ran the jib up in spite of those who 
tried to keep it down, and the yacht paid off. Now 
being under no headway, and the squall so fierce, she 
was knocked down upon her beam-end so far that her 
sails were almost in the water. At this we stood with 
our eyes riveted upon the scene, and hardly drew a 
breath, our nerves beginning to exercise themselves 
preparatory to jumping to their rescue, but miracu- 
lously, although slowly, she again headed to the wind 
and righted herself. This astonished us all, and each 
expressed himself as to how impossible it had appeared. 
After this the yacht's sails were got in and tied up, 
with the exception of her jib, which was hoisted, and 
with which she continued her journey up the bay. Our 
supper now being ready, we were called into our rear 
room, which was our kitchen and diningroom combined. 
All in front of our station was now clear; not a single 
sail or vessel was to be seen; so we supposed that we 
could rest easy for the remainder of the day. Just as 



180 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

we had got seated at our table a heavy gust of wind 
struck the rear of our house, which fairly made it shake. 
At this I got up from the table and started for our 
front door. Some of my crew said to me, as I was 
going, that I had better stay and eat my supper before 
it got cold, and that there was nothing to watch in our 
front; but I had started, so on I went, and as I stepped 
out of our front door I saw a small sailboat, with two 
men in her, being driven offshore by the then gale of 
wind and high sea. But no quicker had I seen them 
than they saw me and began to wave their hats for as- 
sistance. I saw there was no time to lose, so I called 
out for my crew to man our boat. Although my crew 
could hardly have believed that their services would 
be required that day — more especially at the time I 
called out to them — still they knew by my voice that 
there was "something up," so without a word our boat 
was manned and soon being driven by the fierce wind 
to the rescue. The wind and sea were so great, that 
at times it was almost impossible for me to keep con- 
trol of my boat, and, just before I got to the two men, 
she did get somewhat the best of me, but I soon got 
her under my power again, and told my two bow-oars- 
men to take in their oars and be ready to assist the 
two men, but for them not to be too hasty. I then 
called to the two men in the small boat, and told them 
to sit still until I came up to them, and that they would 
have plenty of time to get into my boat. All now ap- 
peared to work splendidly, and I just lapped the for- 
ward part of my boat on the windward af terquarter of 
theirs. My two bow-men now assisted them into our 
boat. We also saved their guns, &c, which they had 
with them. By the time that we had saved all, the 
wind had carried the stem of our boat around so that 
we were all -clear of theirs, which was now filling 
rapidly with water. After getting the two men seated, 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 181 

which took but a moment, my crew gave wa3^ with a 
will. I had not expected that we would be able to get 
back to our beach, but thought we might reach Barren 
Island. After getting the two men in our boat, I said 
to my crew that we would try for our beach. They, 
not having been subjected to any hard rowing while 
going out, pulled nobly, and although each wave, as 
we met it, cast its heavy spray well over us, we slowly 
but steadily made headway, and finally got back to our 
beach, where we were greatly applauded by pleasure- 
seekers who had safely reached the beach before the 
first squall; they also picked up our boat and fairly 
carried her up on the beach for us. We all now went 
to my station, feeling thankful that the two men had 
been saved from the ocean's grasp. Their boat, soon 
filling with water, drifted offshore, but was fortunately 
picked up two days afterwards and brought ashore, 
damaged but little. On this occasion I had Richard 
Wanser, who was a substitute for one of my crew, with 
me. " Dick" was an old seine fisherman, which ac- 
counted for his great ability in handling an oar. 

November 18, 1888 — Two young men, during a storm, 
while returning from fishing, and rowing along our 
beach, about one mile West of my station, getting too 
near the beach, w r ere picked up by a breaker, and with 
their boat were thrown unceremoniously upon the 
shore. One of my crew being near at the time, ran to 
their rescue, and, with their clothing drenched, which 
fortunately was their most serious mishap, conducted 
them to my station; and while their clothing were 
being dried and they warmed, Harris, of my crew, and 
myself went to their boat, emptied the water out, 
launched and rowed her around into Sheepshead Bay, 
where the two young men took charge of her and re- 
turned to Sheepshead Bay Village, thankful that they 
had been so timely and cheerfully aided. 



182 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

November 26, 1888 — At 12:15 o'clock, a. m., my patrol- 
man reported to me that my surfboat, which I was in 
the habit of leaving out on our beach, was in danger of 
being driven off the beach and carried out to sea. I 
being' up at the time, having just changed the dials on 
the patrol clocks, immediately went out and saw that 
it was necessary for me to get my boat on the top of a 
ridge just in front of my station. Calling all of my 
crew up to help me, I did so. This was one of the 
many high tides and severe storms that we often had 
to contend with, our station now being on a beach 
about 1^ miles in length from the Manhattan bulkhead, 
and running East and West, and on ordinary high 
waters about 100 yards wide at the widest parts, on 
this night, at our station, from the ocean's water to 
that of the bay in the rear of our station, was not more 
than 75 feet; and from a short distance to the West of 
us to to the bulkhead all of the beach was constantly 
swept over by the ocean's mad and foaming billows. 

December 5, 1888— At about 1 o'clock, p. m., I boarded 
the schooner Ira W. Hover, of New York, which was 
S.E. about three-quarters of a mile from my station, 
but she soon getting hard aground, the sea, which was 
heaving in, did her but little if any harm. Her crew 
staid on board of her, and as the tide rose got her off. 

December 6, 1888 — At 10 o'clock, a. m., I saw the 
schooner Hattie Chevalier get aground E.S.E. about 
three-quarters of a mile from my station. A few mo- 
ments later I saw her lose her yawlboat. I then launch- 
ed my surfboat, and boarded the Chevalier. The wind 
had been N.E., fresh, but now suddenly came out from 
the N.W., and blew very hard. On boarding the 
schooner I found there was quite a wind sea, but she 
was lying easy. On learning that the crew of the 
schooner had nothing on board to eat, I took her cap- 
tain to Barren Island, where he got a supply of provi- 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 183 

sions. After returning to the schooner, seeing that I 
could do nothing then, I returned to my station (1 
o'clock, p. m.) At -1 o'clock, p. m., I again boarded the 
Chevalier, and took her captain and two of her crew 
to Barren Island, that they might get their yawlboat, 
as the wind had continued to blow so hard that I could 
not go to Rockaway Beach, where the yawl had drifted, 
and get her. On our first trip to the island, arrange- 
ments were made for a tug to get the yawl and leave 
her at the island, which she did, but the oars had been 
lost out of the yawl, and the wind blowing so hard that 
we could not tow her, we were obliged to return with- 
out her. At 8 o'clock, p. m., I returned to my station, 
my crew having had a hard day's labor at their oars. 
On the next day's high tide the schooner floated off 
and went to Barren Island. The schooner appeared 
to have had bad luck. 

December 8, 1888 — At about 8 o'clock, a. m., I boarded 
the schooner Buckley, which had got aground on one 
of our shoals, S.E. about three-quarters of a mile from 
my station, and carried her anchor off for her. I then 
boarded the schooner Nathaniel Jarvis, South about 
one mile from my station, which had got on the shoals 
and soon filled with water, her crew leaving her in 
their yawlboat and going on board of another schooner 
near-by. There being nothing now that I could do, I 
had an understanding with the captain of the Jarvis 
as to how he could signal me if my services were 
needed. I now returned to the Buckley. My crew 
and the schooner's crew, partly unloading her by that 
day's high water, got her off, which was fortunate for 
her, although hard work for us. I now returned to my 
station (1:30, p. m.) Dec. 9, 1888 (Sunday), at 7 o'clock, 
a. m., the wind having been blowing from the East, 
and the weather now looking as though we were going 
to have a bad "East storm," I left my station and 



184 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

boarded the Jarvis, which had been left alone, the 
other schooner going to New York. On boarding the 
Jarvis I found no one on board of her, but shortly after 
her captain came from on board a passing schooner, 
which he had gone up the bay with, the night before. 
It had been his intention to try and stay in his yawl, 
near the Jarvis, but as it was raining now, and the 
weather looking so bad, and there being quite a sea 
around the Jarvis, which was washing all over her 
decks, we, after securing everything that we could on 
board, took him (the captain) to our station, where he 
remained until 3 o'clock, p. m., when he left and 
boarded another schooner, which had been sent to get 
the Jarvis off or dismantle her. She was finally got 
off and taken to New York. 

December 31, 1888 — At 11 o'clock, a. m., I saw the 
schooner G. Downing get aground on one of our 
shoals, E. S. E., about half a mile from my station. As 
she soon listed over badly, I feared she would fill with 
water; so I, with Ford and Thomas of my crew, board- 
ed her in my inactive season skiff. It was raining 
hard at the time, and the wind was Southwest, fresh, 
which made a bad wind sea. On boarding the schoon- 
er, and looking around, I was of the same opinion as 
that of her captain — that she would rise with the tide. 
On takiog my leave, I informed the captain that I 
would come off to him with my crew at any time, 
could I be of service to him, and all that he need do 
was to hoist anything in the rigging. After the tide 
had risen somewhat, the schooner floated off with, as 
I believe, very little damage. 

March 2, 1889 — At 1 o'clock, p. m., Ford, of my crew, 
(he being on day duty) reported to me that there was 
the remains of an unknown man on our beach, who 
had drifted in with the tide. I went with my crew 
and carried the remains up above high water-mark, 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 185 

and then reported the circumstances to the civil au- 
thorities of the Town of Gravesend, who took charge 
of the body, which, as 1 was informed, was never iden- 
tified, although the features, &c, were well preserved. 

March 14, 1889 — Took full charge of this schooner 
ourselves, and sent her to New York. At 1 o'clock, 
p. m., I boarded the schooner Annie V. Willis, which 
was aground Southeast, § of a mile, from my station. 
On boarding her I was informed that she had lost her 
heavy anchor, and had nothing but a very small one 
out. I now, with the schooner's crew and my own, 
tried to find the heavy one by dredging for it, but could 
not. The captain then informed me that he intended 
to stay near where he was until the next morning, 
after the schooner was got off. This I did not think 
wise, as there was every indication of a bad storm near 
at hand. But I said nothing; still, I did some think- 
ing. Finally we got the schooner, and heaved her up 
to her anchor, then, in a jolly way, we began to make 
sail on the schooner. I having told my crew of my in- 
tentions, in a very short time, without a word being 
said as to what was to be done, the anchor was heaved 
up and the schooner paid off on the port tack, and, with 
a good stiff breeze, down out of the inlet we went, 
with one of my crew (Ford) at the wheel. After get- 
ting well out, and where the schooner could soon be 
"squared " with a good run for New York, my crew 
and myself jumped in our boat and bid the schooner's 
crew and captain adieu, who were enthusiastic in their 
expressions of thanks. The wind working around a 
little more to the East made a bad storm of it that 
night, which continued all the next day, the wind 
blowing a gale; and it was quite evident that had not 
the Willis — which made a safe run to New York — got 
away as she did she would have gone to pieces on the 



18G THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

shoals, or dragged to sea, where she and her crew 
would have been lost. 

March 22, 1889 — At 12 o'clock, m., I boarded the 
sloop Chief; which was on our West Shoals, South, 
about one mile from my station, loaded with 1,500 
bushels of seed oysters, which were worth TO cents per 
bushel. After boarding the Chief I carried off an 
anchor for her, and then was obliged to wait until 
% o'clock, p. m., when three small sloops came from 
Rockaway, on board of which we went to work and 
placed about 600 bushels of oysters from the Chief. 
As we were obliged to handle these oysters at a great 
disadvantage it made our work very laborious. As 
the afternoon advanced, and while we were yet hard 
at work, it looked at one time as though we were to 
have our "hands full." One of the little sloops which 
we had loaded started up the bay, but after getting 
about \ of a mile from us encountered a very bad sea, 
and at times it appeared that she was completely buried 
beneath it. So sure was I at one time that she was 
doomed to go to the bottom, and remembering that it 
was my duty to save life before property, I called for 
my crew to stand ready to man our boat ; but at this 
very time there was a large schooner being towed in 
our main inlet, and she had got aground and was being 
so knocked about by the big sea that was then sweeping 
in over our outer shoals that it did not appear possible 
that she could hold together; and the tug which had 
been towing her looked as though she would go to the 
bottom every moment. Such now was the scene that 
we would have sprung instantly to the rescue of either, 
only for the other — the two holding us in suspense for a 
moment. We then watched them both calmly, and saw 
them slowly work out of their perilous positions and 
proceed safely on their journey. We now resumed our 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 187 

work on the Chief, thankful that we had not been 
obliged to leave her. At 5:45 o'clock, p. m., and at 
about high water, with nearly a gale of wind from the 
South, blowing in a portion of her sail, which we had 
hoisted, and with a big sea to aid her, she very slowly 
worked off the shoals, which was very fortunate, for, 
had she not been got off as she was, much if not all of 
her cargo would have been thrown overboard in order 
to have saved her. A run to our beach, with many 
ups and downs. On leaving the Chief to return to my 
station, the tide being high and the wind having in- 
creased to about a gale, made a big sea — in fact, the 
biggest, I think, that I ever saw in that locality — but 
as the wind was blowing directly towards our beach, 
we were not long in running that mile; but I tell you 
we found the course rough and tempetuous. On near- 
ing our beach, and night beginning to set in, I hardly 
knew how our landing would end, as I could see noth- 
ing but a foaming break ahead of me; but steering for 
a part which I thought would be the best, and watch- 
ing my opportunity, I landed high and dry upon our 
beach, and then was not long in getting to my station 
and taking a rest, which we all greatly needed. 

April 13, 1889 — An act of my crew which I shall 
always feel proud of : The weather being good, at 
noon I left my station and took the 12:30, p. m., train 
from Manhattan Beach and visited my family. When 
I returned, at 6:30, p. m., I found four strangers at my 
station, and learned the following facts : Nathaniel 
E. Baldwin, who was out on our beach, about 400 yards 
East of our station, heard cries for help. On looking 
around, he saw a capsized boat. He immediately ran 
towards our station, but had only gone about 100 yards 
when he saw John R. Skidmore, whose attention he 
called to the boat. Skidmore instantly ran in the 
house (station) and gave the alarm. The crew then 



188 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

picked up our inactive season skiff and ran with her 
across the meadows, in the rear of the station, to the 
Sheepshead Bay channel, where Abraham K. Tice, 
Joseph Harris and William Biggs jumped in the skiff, 
and were but a few moments in reaching the parties 
and rescuing them. Tice, who "pulled" the men in 
over the stern of our skiff, said he thought our little 
skiff would be sunk when he got hold of one of the 
unfortunates, as he weighed 250 pounds. The rescued 
men gave to me the highest praise of my crew, and 
said, only for their extraordinary quickness, all would 
have been lost, as they were so chilled that they were 
helpless. Their boat was bottom up, and her mast-top 
resting on the bottom, prevented her from drifting 
inshore sufficient for the men to save themselves. 
Two of the four men, I believe, said they could swim 
a little, but after getting chilled were afraid to make 
the attempt. The weight of the men had their boat 
under water, and had they been left five minutes 
longer in the water, two, if not all of them, would have 
been lost. After being rescued they were taken to 
our station, where dry clothing was put on them, and, 
with other good treatment, they were enabled to re- 
turn to their homes that night. I will now give the 
names of all of my crew at this time, and will add that 
for this, as well as for many other noble deeds of 
theirs, they deserve great credit ; William Arend, 
Abram K. Tice, William H. Bush, John R. Skidmore, 
Joseph Harris, Nathaniel E. Baldwin and William 
Biggs. 

May 8, 1889 (inactive season) — Seeing a small sloop- 
rigged yacht (Jennie Horstman) get aground, East, 
about half a mile from my station, and it being near 
sunset, and ebb tide, I went to her, and, after a few 
moments with her owner got her off; after which I 
remained on board and piloted her up Sheepshead Bay, 
for which I received sincere thanks. 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 189 

May 25, 1880 — Just after sunset on this date I re- 
turned from Sheepshead Bay, and felt somewhat fa- 
tigued, as I had rowed up the bay and back hurriedly, 
distance both ways about three miles, with a strong 
tide against me going up (ebb tide), but as I returned 
I saw a small sailboat, S. S. E., about half a mile from 
my station. At this time there was no wind, and the 
two young men, aged 14 and 18 years, respectively, 
who were in the small boat were trying to paddle 
ashore with a small piece of board, they having no oars, 
but the tide running out so strong they were rapidly 
being carried out to sea. The weather now was look- 
ing very stormy, and I knew the night would soon set 
in exceedingly dark, so I went off to their aid. After 
reaching them, one got in my boat with me and helped 
to tow their boat in. We had a hard pull, but finally 
got in the bay. The two boys then proceeded to their 
landing place, which was but a short distance, and I 
returned to my station. The night now was very dark, 
and the rain began to fall, with the wind springing up 
fresh from the East. As I reached my station and 
looked offshore, how thankful I felt that I had been 
able to get them ashore safely. They were inexpe- 
rienced boatmen and lived in the city (Brooklyn), and 
had been out taking a sail; while going down the bay 
and out of the inlet, having the tide with them, they 
got along nicely, but when they tried to get back 
against the tide, with hardly any wind, they found 
cmite a difference in the speed of their boat. 

June 1G, 1889 (Sunday) — At about 1 o'clock, p. m., I 
saw the steamboat Eliza Hancock get aground, E. S. E., 
about 9A miles from my station. With my son, Harry 
C. Ryder, aged 18 years, I boarded her; but her pas- 
sengers, or most of them, had just been taken off by 
the tugs Dean and Peck. After taking soundings for 
the captain, and advising him as to his course after 



190 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

the steamer floated, I returned to my station, having 
the tide against me both ways, which made a hard row 
of it. The Hancock floated off at ( J : 1 5 o'clock, p. m. 
She was carrying parties between New York and 
Rockaway Beach. 

July 4, 1889 — At about 3:15 o'clock, p. m., I saw a 
small sailboat, the Lillie, with a lady and a gentleman 
on board, trying to get in Sheepshead Bay Inlet against 
the tide, but the tide was running so strong they could 
make no headway against it, so I went off to them — 
East, about quarter of a mile from my station — and 
managed to get their boat to the point of our beach 
(Manhattan ) . As a heavy shower had just passed over, 
and the two occupants getting somewhat wet, they 
wanted to hire me to take them in my boat to the rear 
of the Oriental Hotel. I told them that I was not to 
be nired, but would willingly row them up the bay, 
which I did after securing their boat. Distance to the 
hotel about 1| miles. 

July 22, 1889 — Seeing a small tugboat, the Eva Par- 
ker, running too near the beach, and evidently trying 
to go into Sheepshead Bay Inlet, but did not know the 
way, I launched my boat, and, with my son, H. C. 
Ryder, rowed off towards her. The wind at the time 
was Southwest, fresh, which made quite a sea. The 
Parker, which had got aground, but had got off again, 
now came and met me, and Captain Williams asked 
me to come on board, which I did. After getting on 
board I was asked whether I could take the Parker in 
the inlet. It was now about half tide (ebb), and I knew 
there was none too much water to get in with, but I 
said I would try; so I ran the tug offshore a short dis- 
tance, took my ranges, and went in the inlet and all 
the way up the bay without mishap. 

July 28, 1889— At 12:30 o'clock, p. m., I saw the cat- 
boat Lillie B, capsized, Southeast, about half a mile 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAYING SERVICE KEEPER. 191 

from my station. I immediately launched my inactive 
season skiff and went to her; but just before I got to 
her a passing" yacht picked up her crew of four men. 
I afterwards, with her captain, got her to the beach, 
righted her and freed her of water. Her captain, then, 
through over-exertion, becoming very faint and dizzy, 
obliged me to take him in my boat to my station, where 
after about an hour's time, he so far recovered as to 
be able to go up Sheepshead Bay in a yacht that had 
come for him. This yacht also towed the Lillie B up 
the bay. 

August 2, 1889 — In my inactive season skiff I board- 
ed the yacht Nettie, Southeast, about quarter of a mile 
from my station, which had got aground with a pleas- 
ure party on board. After about twenty minutes' hard 
work we got the yacht off, and she proceeded on her 
journey up the bay with her party feeling thankful. 

August 5, 1889 — Boarded the scow Mamie Alice, 
which got aground while being towed in, East, about 
quarter of a mile, from my station. She was loaded 
with about 500 tons of half-inch stone. For three days 
I rendered good assistance to her captain. She was 
finally got off after being lightened, and was then taken 
up Sheepshead Bay. 

August 10, 1889 — At about o'clock, p. m., I saw 
the sloop yacht Ionian get aground, Southeast, about 
quarter of a mile from my station. As there was quite 
a sea where the Ionian grounded, I immediately board- 
ed her in my skiff. After working very hard for about 
f of an hour we got the yacht off and went in Sheeps- 
head Bay with her. As her captain, who was also her 
owner, had been taken sick, and he being alone, he was 
running in the bay for the night. Under the circum- 
stances, more especially my services were highly ap- 
preciated. 

September 15, 1889 — Plenty of hard work, but inter- 



193 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

mingled with some pleasantry. At about 7 o'clock, 
p. m., I saw the schooner M. W. Klots come in our 
(Rockaway) West inlet. The evening- setting- in very 
foggy, I lost sight of the schooner at about 8 o'clock, 
p. m. She was then S. S. E., about 1 mile from my 
station. At midnight, the fog lifting somewhat, I saw 
an anchor light (a white light in the fore rigging) in 
the direction where I had last seen the Klots, but 
thought nothing of it, as vessels often anchored there. 
September 10, at 6 o'clock, a. m., Nathaniel E. Baldwin, 
who was on patrol from 4 o'clock to sunrise, reported 
to me that he thought the schooner was aground On 
looking, I, too, felt satisfied that she was; but as there 
was but little sea, and the tide beginning to rise, I be- 
lieved she would soon float off. So I went to the Post 
Office and mailed my weekly report, and on my way 
back changed the keys in my patrol safes. This I 
usually did on Mondays, but on my return I could see 
that the schooner was still aground and listed consid- 
erably to port. I had, from the first, made all haste 
possible, but the distance from my station to the Post 
Office was fully 24- miles, so the walking of 5 miles 
consumed a little time; still, I was back and launched 
my surfboat at about 8 o'clock, a. m., and in about 20 
minutes time was on board the schooner. On arriving 
I found her captain, George C. Rhoe, and crew of two 
men beginning to throw her cargo overboard, which 
was 55 tons of coal, most of which was on deck. I 
immediately, with my crew, began to help the schoon- 
er's crew. At 10 o'clock, a. m., the tug Dean came and 
tried to tow the Klots off — we then having the coal 
mostly off — but could not. I then returned with my 
crew to my station. At 2:30 o'clock, p.m., (Sep. 10), 
I again boarded the Klots, but could not do much until 
5 o'clock, p. m., when we began pumping with two 
pumps. The tug Dean coming shortly after, two more 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 193 

pumps, and, I believe, 18 colored men from Barren 
Island, making 28 men of us altogether. We now went 
to work with great energy, some pumping and some 
throwing water out with pails, but the leakage was so 
great that our progress was slow. Still, after working 
through, at times, a dense fog, misty rain or almost 
total darkness, we had, at 9 o'clock, p. m., got the 
schooner freed of water sufficient to place 45 empty 
barrels in her hold. As the tide soon began to wash 
over the schooner decks, it had been thought that 
these barrels would float the schooner, but as they did 
not, it was believed that they buoyed sufficient for the 
Dean to tow her off, so she tried it, but it was soon 
found that she was unable to move her. We now 
decided to leave her for the night ; and now came a 
job for my crew and myself: The Dean was obliged to 
lay off about 100 -yards from the schooner, and I had 
to ferry the workmen from the schooner to the tug. 
This was no easy task as the night was very dark, and 
there was a big sea. While working we had kept the 
colored men singing most of the time, w T hich they did 
willingly, and which greatly amused; but after giving 
up work they began to realize their situation, which 
looked to them perilous enough. At first they were 
afraid to leave the schooner and get in my boat, see- 
ing how she was jumping in the sea, but as the sea was 
now washing all over the schooner's deck they were 
also afraid to stay there. Finally, by making three 
trips I managed to transfer them all safely; then they 
were afraid the tug would sink, and wanted me to stay 
with them, but I assured them that they were safe on 
the tug, after considerable talking. I had my compass 
with me, but knowing how the wind was I went by 
that instead of using my compass. At first, while 
crossing a bar, we had it very rough, but after that the 
seas were longer and we soon reached our beach and 



194 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

landed safely. It was now 10:20 o'clock, p. m. Sep- 
tember 17, at 2 o'clock, p, m.,the tug Dean tried to tow 
the Klots off, but onlv could tow her a short distance. 
I did not at this time go off, as the wind was blowing 
almost a gale from the south, and Mr. Rhoe, captain 
of the Dean, not signalling me, as he was to have done 
if I was needed. At midnight the Dean tried again to 
tow the Klots off, but could not. September 18, at 10 
o'clock, a. m., I boarded the Klots and carried off an 
anchor, and did other work for Capt. Rhoe, and then 
returned to my station. At 1:20, p. m., I again boarded 
the Klots, ran a hawser and otherwise assisted the two 
tugs, Dean and Peck, which, after trying very hard, 
failed to tow the schooner off. September 19, at 12:30, 
p. m., I left my station, and, with a fair (West) wind 
blowing very hard and a high wind-sea, I soon boarded 
the Klots, which was now Southeast, about f of a mile 
from my station, she having been carried a little by 
the flood tide. We now placed twenty more barrels 
in the schooner's hold, and at about 3 o'clock, p. m., 
the Dean tried to tow her, but could only get her a 
short distance offshore, and was then obliged to leave 
her, as the ebb tide began to run strong. .The wind 
continued to blow very hard and the sea kept high, 
but my crew rowed our surfboat against it, and we 
landed on our beach at about 4 o'clock, p. m. Septem- 
ber 20, at 2:30 o'clock, p. m., I boarded the Klots, and 
at about 3 o'clock, p. m., the Dean towed her off and 
up to Barren Island. I accompanied her, fearing an 
accident might occur, but there did not, which we were 
all thankful for, as the Klots had given us consider- 
able labor already, The barrels which we had put in 
the schooner's hold buoyed her equally, and she went 
up to the island as nicely as could be wished for, with 
her deck even with the water. After docking the 
schooner at the island, Capt Henry Rhoe, with his tug 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPKR. 195 

Dean, towed lis in our boat back to within half a mile 
of our station; we then rowed the rest of the distance, 
returning- to our station at about 5:30 o'clock, p. m. 
While returning we had a very hard wind against us, 
and a high sea to contend with — which was the case 
generally all through while attending to the Klots — 
but, through the great perseverance of all, the schooner 
was saved from being a total wreck. She was, before 
getting aground and sinking, valued at fully $1,200, 
and it was thought that her damage would not exceed 
$600. So, even though we had considerable trouble 
with her, we always felt proud of our labors when see- 
ing her sail by. 

September 30, 1889 — Took my departure from the 
service, having served two years as surfman and little 
over four years as keeper, and it is with pride and 
thankfulness that I think of my past services as a life- 
saver; proud of what I achieved, and thankful that 
none suffered for the want of aid within my reach. 
To those who served faithfully under me I shall always 
cherish the fondest remembrance. While I have not 
in any way tried to give my statements a flowery cast, 
I will say that many acts on the part of some of my 
crews have been indeed gallant, and to all lovers of 
manliness their names will always be as welcome as is 
the haven light to the mariner. Although I had no 
vessel to use the beach apparatus on, still 1 think my 
statement concerning its use is as clear as though I 
had given the account from actual service. 

In reference to the service, past and present, I will 
say that it has gradually improved, not so much as to 
the appliances placed in the stations, but as to the men 
employed. I might recite here a story I heard some 
years ago, and I do not doubt but what many similar 
incidents occurred: Two men belonging to one sta- 
tion — we will call them Smith and Brown — went one 



19G THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

day with their horse and cart up the beach. While 
there they partook pretty freely of their " whiskey 
straight," which was their custom whenever an oppor- 
tunity afforded. The night being very dark, and the 
tide high, while they were returning, would probably 
have made it difficult for them only for their faithful 
animal; still, at one time Smith was awakened from 
his quiet thoughts, and began to doubt his (the horse's) 
knowledge of safety. They were crossing a low part 
of the beach, and the sea sweeping over with great 
force was nearly carrying horse, wagon and occupants 
with it high up in the hills. Smith seeing the seas 
dash up against the wagon, asked Brown where he 
was going. Brown was supposed to be driving, but in 
fact the horse was not driven at all; the reins were 
slack, and the horse was taking his own road or way, 
which, fortunately or unfortunately, he had often 
traveled and knew well. " Where am 1 going? straight 
for Sandy Hook, by G — ! " replied Brown. Sandy 
Hook was offshore. " Well, go on, then, if you want 
to," answered Smith, and at the same time he man- 
aged to get out of the rear part of the cart, and went 
back to a dry part of the beach. Brown soon coming 
to dry land or sand, stopped the horse and called for 
Smith, who after some trouble succeeded in crossing 
and getting in the cart again. They now continued 
their journey without further mishap. On reaching 
their station they got their horse in the stable and 
then went in. Whether they were really hungry, or 
from habit, they sought for something to eat, and soon 
found the dinner-pot. "Come Brown, the boys had 
soup for dinner and they have left some for us," said 
Smith. Plates, &c, were got on the table, and the 
"soup "dished up. The two now sat clown to their 
meal and apparently relished it, or a part of it, as their 
following words will show: " T say, Brown, how do 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 197 

you like the soup? " "Good, Smith, good." "Yes, Brown, 
the soup is good, but I tell you the beef is as tough as 
hi— 11." The soup was the dish-water left in the pot, 
and the beef was the dish-eloth. This story may sound 
a little "fishy," but it was told to me as a candid fact; 
and coming from the source it did, I believed it; and 
I know of fully as ridiculous incidents that happened 
in my own station during the first part of my service; 
but I believe now those days are over, and I hope 
never to return. 

When I was first appointed Keeper I had it under- 
stood that I would never allow a man to remain in the 
service if he came into the station drunk; and I will 
say — which is creditable to those who served under 
me — that not one of them ever came into our station 
under the influence of liquor sufficient for me to de- 
tect it, and I would not be slow in making the detec- 
tion. It has been said that I was too strict, but I have 
never been able to see where I was. I always required 
a reasonable amount of morality and performance of 
duty, which was never an injury to any one. My Sta- 
tion Journal still show.? the many patrols I did for the 
different members of my crews, also the truthfulness 
of my within statements. I might state here what I 
believe should be done, and if done would advance the 
service to a much higher standard in every respect. 
Keepers should receive $900 per year and surf men at 
the rate of $800. This would reach and keep a better 
class of surfmen. In some of our stations, if not the 
whole crew, one man by all means, should remain with 
the keeper during the inactive season, and every sta- 
tion should have a small boat like or similar to the one 
I had built for my station. Launching and practising 
with surfboat, drilling with beach apparatus, resusci- 
tation lesson and Code signals, should not be neglected, 
especially the surfboat, although all are of great im- 



198 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 

portance. Great care should also be taken in regard 
to patrol duty ; gunning, fishing, &c., should be en- 
couraged, but governed with care; good discipline 
should be enforced, and all men treated with the great- 
est of fairness. By all means, the crew should consist 
of seven men (surfmen) during the whole of the active 
season. Whatever asked for by keepers should be 
carefully considered. Men who serve faithfully for 
the best part of their years, or are injured in the ser- 
vice, should be recompensed, also the heirs of those 
who lose their lives in the performance of duty. Re- 
compense should be in accordance with disability. I 
believe those who are conversant with and interested 
in our Life-Saving Service will acknowledge my views 
to be right, and if carried into effect would bring about 
great good, even in many minor things. 

MY PRAYER. 

Oh! Lord, my God on high. 

Do not pass the sailor by, 

But guide his thoughts towards Thee 

While on land or on the sea. 

Be his Captain ever; 

I pray Thee leave him never; 

A noble heart has he, 

Our sailor, the gift of Thee. 

On shore from ocean's deep, 
From the dens do Thou him keep. 
For no seas do compare 
With the dangers lurking there. 

If the sea should be his grave, 
Do his soul, I pray Thee, save; 
If on earth his tomb should be, 
Take his soul, dear Lord, to Thee. 

Our surfmen, Lord, I pray, 
Care for them in every way. 
When their duties here are o'er, 
Take them to Thy peaceful shore. 



THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER. 199 

Our soldiers, too, O Lord, do guide; 

Class them with our nation's pride; 

Let their lives, while here be, 

" Not for self, but all for Thee." Amen. 

My sketches of shoals, &c, in the vicinity of my station 
were not made with any pretensions to regularity; still 
they show, in a general way, the difficulties of getting 
in our inlets, and how dangerous our outer shoals arc 
to vessels bound for New York which happen, in thick 
and bad weather, to get a little to the Northward of 
their course. The most of the Inner Shoals run bare 
on extra low tides, also a large portion of the West 
Shoals. A few years ago the North end of the West 
Shoals was, as I might say, always out of water, but of 
late any ordinary high water covers it all. At times, 
during a bad storm, the sea is very high even on the 
most inner shoals, and no vessel can last long on our 
outer shoals, even when the sea is breaking far from 
its highest. From my station to the nearest point 
of the West Shoals, or " Dry Bar," as the North end 
was called, was nearly one mile. Where I boarded the 
schooner Morrell, on the West Shoals, was well out. 
On these shoals there have been many wrecks, and 
many sad and, I might say, gallant scenes. 

Rockaway Point L. S. Station lies about 2| miles 
East of the point of Rockaway Beach. Our stations 
are so located that there is no dangerous part of our 
beaches but what they are patroled every night and 
thick stormy days, and during clear days watched by 
the day duty man. During extra bad storms two pa- 
trolmen go together, or they are doubled up, as the 
term is; and even then no one knows how difficult it is 
to make the patrols, only those who have had Hie duly 
to perform. During a dark, stormy night, with snow, 
rain or hail beating in their faces, and the tide high, 
causing them to walk on the roughest part of the 



200 THE U. S. LIFE-SAVING SERVICE KEEPER 

beach, with nothing to guide them but the splashing 
sea, as it breaks upon the beach, it is no easy task, and 
it requires great will and determination to accomplish 
it. Many a fall has the patrol had over old logs, &c, 
and even some have had their legs broken; one I heard 
of had his leg broke, and was obliged to lie all night 
in the snow. I often think how happy must be the 
thought to the mariner that our beaches are so well 
watched, and I will say that they should be well versed 
in our appliances for saving life. 

I might say here, that only a few years ago a foreign 
vessel got on one of our beaches, and after considera- 
ble labor and trouble a life-saving crew managed to 
shoot a shot, with the line attached, on the vessel's 
deck. Other shots had been fired, but they all fell 
short, the vessel being well offshore, and there was a 
tremendous big break on the beach. As the life-savers 
saw their shot reach the vessel they felt jubilant, but 
in a moment, to their astonishment and dismay, they 
saw one of the vessel's crew pick up the shot and throw 
it overboard, thereby breaking the connection. The 
sailor probably thought the shot would explode, and I 
do not doubt but what he was applauded by his ship- 
mates for his brave deed. Fortunately, by great per- 
severance on the part of our life-savers, the vessel's 
crew were saved. 

A word to the life-savers: Do your duty, boys, and 
it is my prayer that the Lord will help you. 

THE END. 



RD 1.04 



Erratum. — On page 132, 11th line, for " Mr. Arthur 
Downing" read "Mr. Arthur Dominy." 










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